Playing Nice
by La Femme Fatal
Summary: Victor Creed is forced to play nice with the X-men while on surveillance mission. Turns out, if you play nice enough you may find yourself going soft.
1. Hired

Hired

A/N: Okay, so after watching X-Men over and over I've decided to let the plot bunnies loose. Unfortunately for those of you who are obsessed with cannon, I will be using the Sabertooth from Origins because he's scarier to me than the one from the comics. Consequently this will be loosely based around the movies. I'm afraid that I am completely unable to write something dark and soul twisting for the entire story, so it will be peppered with some fluffish stuff. There will be romance-ish (Victor's not much of a roses and moonlit walks kind of guy) stuff later.

**I am looking for a Beta if someone would like to help me out.**

Rated: M for language and gore later on.

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the X-Men they belong to Marvel/Disney. I do however own the sleazy government man.

Description: Victor Creed is forced to play nice with the X-men while on surveillance mission. Turns out, if you play nice enough you may find yourself going soft.

* * *

"Sabertooth," the smooth sultry voice, which just sounded like sex, filtered through the room, his codename carried in the sound it made. "Magneto would like to speak with you now."

Victor Creed tossed away the magazine – some shit about looking your best during the summer – which he was pretending to read and looked up at Magneto's favorite henchman, Mystique. The blue woman was leaning against the doorway; her long limbs stretched out in an enticing manner – then again, after a few days of lying low without any kills or lays, anything looked good.

"Bout damn time," the feral growled.

Victor Creed was not a man who liked – or was use to – waiting. Normally, if he needed to talk at someone (he didn't talk to people; when Creed talked they'd better listen) he'd bust open the door or slip in through a window and wait in the shadows for the best moment. Either way, they would never forget what he said even if he had to use a little force to make them. He rather preferred it that way.

His hard, slate eyes raked over the female mutant's form and he vaguely wondered how angry the big man in charge would be if he took her up against the wall and tore out her throat when he came. He could have had her without taking – he'd done it before – but he didn't want her surrender. He wanted her blood, her fear and a hot sticky mess under his claws that would be impossible to pick up.

Sensing his less than honorable intentions Mystique slipped down the hallway. To her credit, she didn't run – if she had Victor would have chased and then it would be a paycheck down the drain and another enemy itching for revenge over a lady. He kept himself in check as they came to a large, metal – _of course it's fucking metal_, the man sneered to himself – door which opened as they neared.

"Looks like you're back to normal," Creed observed as he stared straight at the man sitting in a surprisingly normal looking study, despite the forbidding doorway. It was furnished in dark woods and surrounded by bookshelves – filled to the breaking point with old musty tomes that – Creed would have bet his last paycheck, _the superior old bastard read in full and memorized just to make everyone else feel less important. _ The only oddities in the room were the sleek and metallic new age decorations set along the shelves as book ends or knick knacks that didn't quite fit in with the rest of the design.

_Sly fuck, _Creed thought with some measure of respect for the man's forethought. _Made himself a small arsenal._

"Heard you needed me for a job," Creed continued while walking along the wall pretending to eye the shelves. It was a good way to throw off another alpha type male; ignore them. It relayed the fact that, to him, not even Magneto posed a threat to his well being. He looked over his shoulder with a smirk that revealed his oversized canines – Magneto needed to understand that he was in charge even if the job wasn't his idea in the first place.

"A special one," he tried to keep the interest out of his voice.

"Yes," the older man said with a nod. "Only you can accomplish it," he stated succinctly. It was no blow to his pride, just a matter of fact.

The smirk widened to something that might have been a grin for a normal human. "Really?"

Another nod indicated the statement's truth. "It involves Charles' establishment," Magneto avoided wincing at his old friend's name; losing him, even after all their fights, still weighed heavy on his heart.

Creed paused in his perusal of the shelves and snarled. "Want me to kill some of the brats that are giving you trouble?" He asked, turning to face him full on.

"Quite the opposite…for now, at least."

He wasn't expecting that answer, but the surprise wasn't on his face just the carefully schooled smug smirk. People rarely asked Victor for help unless someone needed torturing or killing. Anything else would be a waste of his time and theirs – subtly was not something he lacked, he just didn't like using it often.

"I need you to glean some information about the center for me."

"Piss off old man," Victor growled. "Get a kid to do it, or use your other connections. I'm no recon man."

"Very well," Magneto tried not to sound annoyed, he had expected some fight from the man, but he would rather have not pleaded. "I had just thought you might want a chance at it because of your connections…"

"Jimmy doesn't even remember me. All he knows me now is as a murdering sunavabitch with a vendetta against him. Not his murdering sunavabitch brother with a vendetta against him," Creed interrupted, his claws lengthened and dug into the bookshelf that he was holding onto. It was surprising that the wood hadn't splintered, if he wasn't seeing red he would've guessed it as a trick Magneto pulled because he worked with people like Victor. His office would be ruined after every visit if the wood wasn't reinforced with something.

"I was under the opposite impression. You see, he was able to get documents from the labs and has been reading up on his history. I also have heard that Charles assisted him in making a few connections in his mind. I'm quite positive he knows who you are now," Magneto stated conversationally and from the impassive snort he recognized that Victor was turning over this information carefully.

"Alright, what do you need?"

"The plans for the security and a list of every mutant and their capabilities," he said with small smile.

"Sounds a bit easy. What do you want it for?" Creed asked, normally he didn't give a shit, but this was kids stuff. Magneto could easily have found someone to get inside.

"That's not up for discussion," the man said with such force that even Creed knew it would be useless asking again. "Here is the first installment of your payment," he reached across the table and Victor grasped an envelope which he opened quickly. A long whistle came from pursed lips when he read the enclosed amount.

"They aren't just gonna let me waltz in," he said looking up from the check with raised brows.

"I have taken care of that," Magneto stood and handed him an envelope with a government seal.

"You've been playing with some big guys," Creed said snarkily. "This must be something pretty interesting."

"It is in the interest of everyone involved, yes." The feral standing across from him knew immediately that Magneto was insinuating that someone was going to die; maybe they were taking down the entire school – he smirked when he remembered how well that turned out last time. He'd figure it out eventually.

* * *

The meeting with Magneto had been over a week ago. Since then he'd been in touch with the government agent who'd been in charge of getting Magneto the sheets that would let him into the academy – they had labeled him as a guard. All the paperwork was done in full and notarized then signed by some very official people, it wasn't just fakes done up by a company guy. No, these were the real deal. For the life of him he couldn't figure out why the government would be using Magneto as a mouth piece. After all, normally, Victor was a government guy. There was something he was missing.

He grumbled and the pads of his fingers pinched the bridge of his nose while he sunk deep into the back of the seat. The intercom system at the airport mumbled out something about flights being canceled. He tuned in long enough to make sure his wasn't.

"Mr. Creed," the voice sounded like an oil slick.

The mutant opened his eyes to see the distinct black slacks and fine leather shoes that marked a government man with a comfortable desk job. His keen sense of smell picked up the sickening odor of too much aftershave and cologne. The man his eyes were met with was a small, wiry man with pale features and thinning blonde hair, he had a computer bag draped over his shoulder. His eyes were a faded blue; altogether he was unassuming and pleasant. Creed hated him. It was this type of guy the feds used to get people to do things for them.

"Yeah?"

"Doyle's the name," the man said holding out his hand as if Creed was going to take it. With the smile pasted on his pale and his drawn features Doyle reminded victor of a stereotypical used car salesman. The man nodded and slowly withdrew his hand when Victor didn't take it.

"Right," the man started again, this time he held out a file.

"Already have those," the feral sneered.

"Not these, no, no. These," _God, does this man ever stop selling?_ Creed thought "will make sure you are covered for everything. I've already talked to Ms. Munroe – she runs the school now, not too keen on you either – and prepared her and whoever else will be there for your arrival."

"Make sure they role out the welcome committee," Creed cut in sardonically. His eyes continued to rove over the man in a predatory fashion.

He imagined that he would be a screamer, a beggar or one of those annoying people that tried to play on Victor's last 'sense of humanity.' Maybe a combination, it would be a funny and slow death no matter what. Victor had already made sure to get his blood and sex fixes before entered the airport – just before. There had been some sweet little thing outside the complex ambling along in high heels and a skirt so short and tight that security wouldn't need a strip search – it'd probably take longer for her to wiggle out of the skirt than the actual search would anyway. He had stalked her for a few minutes then dragged her into an alleyway by her long hair. It was over quickly for her – Victor had waited a bit too long to leave for the airport, but when he got there he felt sated, for a while at least. He wouldn't have much of that on his next job, with the X-men looming over his back and the government protection orders in hand, he'd be forced to play nice.

"Exactly!" The man chuckled but stopped short when Victor's glare caught his notice. "Right…I was directed to give them to you before you got on board. There's a new cellular device in the file and," he held up his finger and slipped the computer bag off. "Here; it's encrypted so no one can track it or hack it and if they try we'll know. Directions are in the file for what you should use it for."

Victor took a deep breath and nodded in understanding. He already knew that the computer was to download files of the mutants and the security specs.

"Well," Doyle added a 'p' to the end of it as if it made him sound friendlier, more colloquial. "Sounds like your up," he pointed to the queue starting to form.

Victor stood with his ticket and new items in hand not bothering to bid the man bye – Victor didn't do farewells or goodbyes.

* * *

One three hour flight with a lot of yelling children and not enough room to move his legs and a forty five minute taxi ride later and Victor saw the sprawling green lawns of the school for mutants. The school was kept up excellently and was a huge building reminiscent of a castle it rambled on and he was fairly sure he could see a few other buildings in the same style – the school had grown; he gave a small nod, a silent indication that he was slightly impressed. Of course, he would have had his balls cut off before he admitted it.

He paid the driver and exited the vehicle. It was the end of the summer and far too hot for his signature jacket so he wore something a little less threatening than usual – a pair of jeans, boots and simple black shirt. He was still fucking hot with the long pants, but he hated shorts.

_Thud, thud, thud. _

Three hard knocks fell on the large door in front of him. A white haired, stone faced woman answered the door – he knew her to be the weather witch. Her form quickly gave way to that of a more familiar look of a compact man with a clear snarl on his face. From the way that Storm's face was set and Logan's contorted anger he gathered that they had just been talking about him.

"Hello, runt," Creed sneered and walked through the open door.


	2. Brotherly Love and New Neighbors

Brotherly Love and New Neighbors

A/N: Hey, thanks to all you people that reviewed and put me on their alert list! I know that reviews actually take time, so I appreciate that my story warranted one. **Itouch **asked about the pairing and I've decided that since this isn't an overly serious story I would do a love triangle with two OCs. Yes, I know that it is corny and overused, but I swear I will make it work. There are two different types of girls that I have seen paired with Victor and I wanted to explore what would happen when they were placed in the same story. There will also be some Wolverine/Rogue shipping, but as I said before romance will be slow. ** Desy **this is set a few years after X3 and Logan is just starting to remember what happened, he remembers Stryker and the Island because they are the most described in the military documents. Here's hoping I haven't lost readers with that info.

Disclaimer: I don't own the X-Men. Anyone you don't recognize is probably mine.

Rating: M for gore and language.

* * *

Victor Creed didn't have to wait long before they let him inside. It seemed almost rushed, like they were afraid paparazzi might catch a glimpse of the wayward, murderous mutant putting a permanent, red smudge on their pristine little school yard. Ororo Munroe – also known as Storm – and James Logan flanked him and they reached a large and comfortable room clearly set up as a lounge area for students to congregate in during break hours. It had a large television with a gaming console and several large couches. It was lined with large windows and on the other side there were foosball tables and a billiards table. Hell, even Victor thought he wouldn't mind a few games of pool during the wee hours of the morning.

His view of the space quickly dropped down a few feet as he unexpectedly was forced to try out one of the comfortable couches. Jimmy had pushed him down and Creed snarled, but tried to look quickly to change his look to show indifference – the file had him as a guard, therefore he couldn't make a scene here. Maybe if he got the runt outside he would be able to get in a real fight. The familiar smell of anger and hatred with a hint of confusion swirled through the air and he knew exactly who it was emanating from.

"Miss me, little brother?" He asked with a toothy grin added for a touch more cruelty. It was a great feeling, watching the realization that they were truly related – that Logan was as much an animal as he – sink into the runt's mind. Apparently Magneto hadn't been lying; Logan was getting his memories back.

Another wave of hatred caused a small laugh to escape Creed who received a punch to the face for it.

Logan was angry, of course. His brother's taunting words resounded through his mind which was still trying to come to terms with his memories. They had just started returning, very slowly. Piece by heart rending piece – they started when he began to read the files about some of his military exploits. It killed him to know that Victor had one time been his protector and it had all twisted on itself. They shouldn't have been like this.

Still, Victor's words weren't the caring ones from childhood they were thrown in his face, "Look at what you made me." He couldn't take it anymore and had just let his emotions loose in that punch. It felt good.

Victor shouldn't have taken the bait considering he was supposed to protect the grounds; well, pretend to. But he was still alpha and no amount of money would get him to take this sitting down. Logan's punch sent him over the edge and soon the only thing he knew was that his claw were sinking into flesh that would give him a good fight back and he wanted to unleash everything he had on it.

He launched himself off the couch and threw Logan to the ground. His sharp claws had extended and he tore into Logan's shoulder causing the man to scream out in pain. Somewhere in the back of his mind he could hear the bitch yelling, but it didn't register until the two of them were knocked back by what was literally a hurricane force wind. He heard the distinct tinkling of shattering glass which had broken due to Storm's outburst.

"I will not have this happening in my school!" Ororo yelled, her white eyes flashing and a dark look carved onto her pretty features that had Logan cowering in his guilt. Creed watched his brother. Surprisingly, instead of tearing into Victor, she lowered herself to the ground and looked at Logan.

"We discussed this. Just because he is related to you it does not make you like him. Do not resort to this sort of behavior again," The Munroe bitch stated while Victor rolled his eyes and snorted.

_He's more like me than you'll ever know, bitch. This ain't over; it's going to happen again and again. I'm going to tear his little world and sense of self to shreds. _Creed threatened in his mind. He remained outwardly reticent and watched as Logan stood up from the debris that had just been a well decorated room.

"'m sorry, 'Ro," he said and boy did he look it, with his head hung low, a frown on his face and brows drawn – the picture of apology. The woman nodded and placed a hand on his shoulder offering a heart melting smile that put one on Logan's face too. He knew what he had done had been exactly what Victor had been aiming to prove. Just one word he didn't like and Logan lunged for the jugular. He felt like his humanity was already tearing under his brother's influence.

"We'll get help cleaning this up," she said looking around the ruined room solemnly.

Victor had a feeling that it was not the first time the room had to be redone due to a mutant fight – came with the territory of sticking angst ridden teens with superhuman capabilities in a high school together.

"Mr. Creed," the tone sounded like ice as the headmistress faced him. "There will be no more outbursts of that sort. If there are, I will request an immediate substitute. You and your brother have things to talk about, certainly. There are better places for it than my school," she ended in a clipped tone.

Creed was mildly surprised he had even gotten a second chance. No doubt if there was another slip up then he'd be pulled from the assignment, it'd look fishy if he weren't. The government couldn't afford to insist on his staying. They'd have to apologize and then let someone – a less skilled someone, who was not dead set on ruining a family member's life – do the job. Creed wouldn't have his pay pulled, so he wouldn't have cared about getting fired from the job, but he wanted to know what was going on. His mind was still working out what possibly could be connecting the government and Magneto. He thought about organized crime members, but dismissed it pretty quickly considering they didn't like dealing with the government much.

"Yeah," was all he said in reply to the order his shoulders slumped a little bit at the pain his brother had inflicted. He had opened up his back something awful and he felt the familiar ache that came with healing himself. It was lucky that they wounds weren't bad, but he knew that he would want a nap soon, healing himself took a lot of energy and that compounded with a long flight and the general chaos in his mind made him think that he _damned well deserved a nap, thank you very much_. It'd be a good one too, exhausted he'd fall asleep like a log and nothing could wake him no matter what nightmares decided to plague him or what memories decided to try and rouse his conscience.

"How about I see my room? I'm assuming you have a nice cozy one picked out right next to yours so that I can't cause any trouble," Victor said slyly, earning a piercing glare from Ororo and Logan. Logan was still seething, he could feel it, but Ororo managed to regain her calm.

"Yes, you will be staying in the teacher's wing across from Logan and me," she said with a smile that clearly said that she would be watching him.

"Wonderful," Creed voiced sarcastically before shouldering his bags over his ruined shirt.

He followed them through a maze of corridors and into an elevator. "Shit, y'all are walled off. What happens if the kiddies get into trouble?"

"The students stay in the dorms which has at least one member of the faculty there or one of the older students on each floor. But, we don't need our entire staff there. We take turns normally," Ororo explained carefully and the awkwardly cheerful sound of elevator music filled Victor's ears and he chuckled at the situation. Anyone would have laughed to see it, Victor didn't like being laughed at but he didn't have his head so far up his own ass that he couldn't laugh at himself from time to time.

* * *

They stepped out of the elevator and took a left into a hallway lined intermittently by doors. Some of them had white boards on the outside and all of them had little mail slots with brass names above them– he assumed the whiteboards were younger teachers, fresh out of college who might leave notes to each other, the older staff members probably thought it cute. The mailboxes were obviously for the sorting of the mail received at the front, maybe assigned to students to sort through for detention. Victor sneered; it was all far too civilized and quaint.

Creed's room didn't have a white board or a cutesy name plate he was settled at the very end of the wood floored hallway and as he looked across the hall where sure enough there was a little mailbox with "Logan" and the one next to it said "Ororo Munroe." Some of the doors had nicknames on the outside too in letters made from colored paper. From the sticky tack still stuck to Jimmy's he assumed that someone had tried to decorate his and had their work torn down – it'd be too cutesy for the manly Wolverine. Ororo's did have "Storm" in yellow letters and a large raincloud next to it garnishing her door.

What surprised Creed most was that he had a next door neighbor; he figured that Logan would have insisted on a buffer room; that no one should be directly next to him. Apparently he had lost that argument as the mailbox read "Alex Deggins."

_Can't wait to meet the sorry sap; I'm going to scare the fuck out him, _Creed thought darkly. Surely his neighbor would request a room movement by the end of the week.

"Here are the keys," Ororo stated (Logan couldn't trust himself to talk so he stood, looking menacing) holding out a small keychain with the X-Men symbol that held two silver keys while the other was a brassy color. "The gold one is for the front door. The other two are for your room and the mailbox. Laundry room is down the hall. We have group dinners at seven if you want; most of the teachers are here considering school is right around the corner, it'd be a chance to meet everyone. If not, your fridge has a few basic items that should hold you off until you can run to the store." Storm said casually, she was forcing herself not to project an air that might start a fight or make Creed feel powerful. It was talking to an employee – she was on autopilot and was doing a fabulous job keeping him thrown off. He had expected a 'here's the room,' with a curt farewell, but not an actual briefing plus a dinner invite.

"Why down the hall?" Was the only thing he could actually think of to say, he had been thrown off, but he was going to have the last word.

"Trying to reduce the carbon footprint; sharing the laundry cuts down on electricity use…and the bill," she added with a chuckle.

"Figures," Creed sneered and fitted the lock with the given key. Ororo turned to leave and gestured for Logan to follow. He was about to enter when he felt a bone crushing grip on his shoulder stopped his entrance.

"I'm watching you, bub," Logan ground out forcibly keeping his emotions in check. "One slip up and I swear that you will pay."

_That was the weakest threat I've ever heard. Did he steal it from a western film? _Creed scoffed mentally.

"Lookin forward to it, Jimmy," he crooned tauntingly from behind a self assured smile. Logan released him and followed quickly after Ororo who was going downstairs already on her phone discussing with a decorator who was a master at getting things done fast – he was a mutant and had worked with them before.

Creed looked around his room approvingly. If he hadn't been stuck in a building that was about to be filled with a bunch of stupid kids then he would have been pleased. It was well decorated with comforting colors and the same types of dark woods that Magneto had in his study. It reminded him of the hotels that people rented when they were moving or a one room apartment.

There was a small kitchenette with a full sized fridge, stove and even a small pantry. The kitchen connected to small living area with a couch and television the bedroom and bathroom were to the right.

He entered the room and tossed his bags to the floor. The bed was large enough, even for him – he suspected that they were all larger because there were quite a few mutants with larger frames due to their mutation. It would make them feel more at home buying larger beds for everyone and save the embarrassment of having to buy a new one if the smaller one didn't fit. The bathroom wasn't little either and his closet definitely fit all of his clothes – the rooms were clearly made for teachers that planned on living here the entire year.

Creed kicked off his boots and crashed onto the bed letting himself drift into a deep sleep. There'd be no way he would join the X-Men for dinner that night.

* * *

It was around eight in the evening when Alexandra Deggins arrived at the mansion that doubled as the school for mutants and headquarters for the X-Men.

Her driving had not improved since the first time she skidded to a halt in front of the big oak doors – she barreled down the entrance path, confident that nothing was going to get in her way. Her black wrangler had the top down, but the doors were still on so her things didn't fall out. Her dark hair flew around her face and she belted out as loudly as she could the song that played on her iPod through her speakers – her own personal anthem, well, one of them; she had one for every occasion (like everyone else).

To most of the mutants at the manor it would be a strange sight. Alex was never the sort of person to let loose and go crazy – it tended only to happen with her sister or when she was alone, but something about a pretty summer day on the way to a place where people she loved were staying and her favorite beat pounding in her veins made her want to sing- so she did.

_That crushing, crashing, atom smashing, white hot thing it's…invincible! _She yelled and slammed her breaks til she skidded to a stop.

After she stopped she put her dark hair into a bun and rolled up the Jeep's top and stepped out of the car. She began to unload the important things like her laptop and favorite box of clothes, but the rest of the stuff could wait and there was no danger of getting robbed here. She wore a sweatshirt despite the warm weather and a pair of jeans with flip flops. Her eyes were keen and so dark that there was no distinction between the pupil and colored iris. She wasn't very tall maybe 5'3" at the most. What you could see of her skin was a bronzed color that came from working out of doors a lot. She hefted the heavy cardboard box and adjusted the computer bag strap and then waddled over to the main door and fumbled with the keys until she finally got the door open.

"God it's quiet," she said out loud when she entered the foyer, which turned into the recreation room. The room that previously been nothing but glass and shredded couches had been picked up for the most part except the windows were covered with plastic instead of glass – Hector did good work thanks to his ability to fix almost anything just with a touch, the glass had unfortunately been far too gone for even him . That piqued her interest as well as stirred up some concern. She didn't see any blood or forced entry marks, but she still needed to make sure everyone was okay. She attempted to hurry to the dining hall – completely forgetting she could drop her things, her mind was so muddled – in hopes of catching someone before they all finished eating. She didn't reach it in the amount of time she hoped, but Logan, Hank and Ororo were still there.

"Hello," she huffed and Hank– being the well bred gentleman he was – took her box which she relinquished gratefully to the blue furred man. Her hands went to her knees and she let herself take a few breaths.

"Thanks, Hank," she said with a nod.

"You are quite welcome," the man said with a chuckle at the girl's riled state. He set the box on one of the chairs at the table.

"What'd yah do, run?" Logan snarked.

"Alex, good to have you back," Ororo greeted warmly and Alex smiled at her in return.

"Yes," she said matter of factly looking up at Logan and adjusted her position to a comfortable lean on the table with her face in her hands.

"Why?"

"Windows are missing? What happened you get robbed?" She asked, concern edging into her voice which had remained at a relatively flat tone until then.

"Nah…"Logan shook his head when he realized the girl might have begun to worry for her friend's safety. "Fight."

"Who? I didn't think the kids who went home for the summer got back for two weeks."

"It wasn't the children, Alex," Ororo stepped in smoothly and smiled at Logan who quickly relinquished the explanation. The woman fought to find words and finally just spit it out; "Logan's brother is staying here. They had an argument."

Alex, pushed herself from her bent position and stood straight, disbelief painted on her features. She had heard about Victor Creed – the Sabertooth – and nothing commended him to her. Hell, she had been lucky that when mutant kids started going missing that her parents had the foresight to hide her and hide her well – not that she used her powers much anyway, so it wasn't well known she was a mutant, but they hadn't taken any chances. The next time she'd heard his name was when the school had been attacked – she had been a senior then, in charge of watching over some of the little kids – she didn't know for sure if he had been there, she hadn't see him. But that had only been four years ago, Victor Creed would not have turned a new leaf that quickly; she was positive.

"Why?" Ice would have been warmer than her tone.

"Government assigned him to us as a guard. Anti-mutant riots are getting bad, they don't want the school in danger or it will stir up some major bad press," Logan had finally trusted himself to talk without growling.

Alex snorted. "We can take care of ourselves," she stated and Logan shrugged.

"Government don't know that part, though. Figured Creed would be a good deterrent."

"For people not to send their kids here!" She retorted, petulantly.

"That's what I said, but we can't fight government protection. They'd get suspicious," Logan paused and then added quickly as if it would make it better, "He's your neighbor, by the way."

"What? Why?"

"Well, we don't have enough room to put you somewhere else, and with your ability you could hold him off well enough if it came to it," He said with more confidence in her powers than she ever felt. But Logan was right, Alex's abilities were great for defense – regenerative abilities, and increased speed, agility combined with the force fields she could create gave her a better chance of surviving Creed's bloodlust if he should go off the handle.

"Touché," the girl said and raised two fingers flicking her wrist inward in order to emphasize that the man had a point – it was an odd habit that had started out as a friend's movement which she copied to tease him, then it became her own habit like a lot of inside jokes do.

Logan grinned and ruffled her hair which she attempted to straighten. With a sigh she decided she might as well go face her doom. She glared at where the box should be but found that Hank had already put it on a cart for easy transport.

"You're a saint," she said with a pleased smile and Hank nodded.

"Well, it was more for the sake of my back," he teased even though he could have carried it quite easily. "I have to go to a meeting with child services. They have a case with an abused mutant child and are looking to place him at the school."

"Right. Ororo is going too?" It wasn't really a question. As the new headmistress Ororo did have to go and discuss these things while measuring how the boy would fit in.

"Yes, we'll catch up later and you can tell me how school went this semester!" The woman said fondly. Alex had just finished her undergraduate work and although her family was not poor they were not rich enough to pay for law school so she had decided to take on the offered job as an assistant with the younger children at the school – not that she was particularly fond of kids, normally they annoyed or scared her a little bit, but she needed the money and she loved the school. Not to mention, she was offered a team spot which she had wanted since she nine. She just couldn't say no; couldn't really let go of the school.

Her mind started to drift off as she thought about her future. Maybe she'd be able to teach a beginner's law class for the high school kids and run her own practice or, better yet, she could just do a lot of the cases that they worked with anyway. Fingers snapped in front of her face dragging her out of big dreams.

"Did yah hear me, darlin?" Logan asked and she noticed that both Storm and Beast disappeared.

"Sorry, I wasn't listening" she said truthfully, her voice level. In anyone else it'd been a rude comment, but Alex, Logan knew lived her life in her own head and that she was an equal opportunity ignorer – it didn't matter who you were, if something else caught her fancy or she thought the topic stupid she'd just tune it out. It was a great defense against getting into drama.

It was also one of the most annoying things in the world for the feral who, although he didn't like to admit it, was a rather emotional person and let himself go every now and again. Sure he could smell what she wanted to feel a lot of times, but then it would go to shit once her mind had picked it to shreds and he couldn't guess what she was telling herself so that he could help her feel better. The woman thought everything through to the point of being insensitive sometimes. She was far too logical at times, and she knew she was logical so it often ended with her dealing with difficult problems by herself and she didn't often let herself feel what she wanted to.

"Thought not, you got that look on your face." Logan chuckled.

"So?" She prompted.

"Right, I'm going to go to the training room. You should be fine, Lexy" he used his special pet name for her just to butter her up, "all the panic buttons still work." Panic buttons were something installed in every room – like fire alarms almost, they allowed people to call for help in case of emergency. But, Alex couldn't ignore the fact that Logan was basically telling her that she was facing the Sabertooth alone. She knew why he wasn't going up; the training room was always used to blow off steam if it wasn't used for practice.

She had a feeling that whatever happened in the recreation room would happen again if Logan didn't stay away from his estranged brother. Alex hoped that the man had locked himself in his room and wouldn't come out except for at night. It was high hopes she reasoned as she remembered that, from what she heard, Sabertooth loved to feel like he had power over others through intimidation. It wasn't unlikely that he would move around just to watch people squirm.

"Fan-fucking-tastic," she cursed – which showed how annoyed she was, cursing was not something she did often (she prided herself on a vocabulary that allowed her to express frustration without crass language) – when Wolverine was out of earshot. She strode to the cart and pushed it and quickly found herself at her old door complete with white board and several multi-colored markers for maximum note writing fun.

She was at the right place in a few minutes, the wheels of the cart squeaking as she rolled it down the hall. Her black gaze looked at the door just a few feet away from her where Victor Creed – _the _Sabertooth – was snoozing right now. Almost instinctively a small form fitting barrier, that shimmered blue at her movement, formed around her body, not because she thought he was going to attack her, but so he wouldn't smell her it worked with Logan, but then she realized that all the things she was bringing in smelled like her; the barrier was dropped and she turned red even though no one was around to see her screw up, she pulled up her sweat shirt hood in an attempt to hide the blush.

After she was sure no one witnessed her debacle. Alex went to pick her keys out of the open box and was silently glad that she had downsized her usual Mary Poppins-esqe bag for a small Coach wallet that attached to her keys. She didn't have to dig and make a lot of noise, which meant that the man in the next room wouldn't hear her if her were asleep. The first box wasn't easy as it was definitely the heaviest, laden with everything that was her favorite from books to clothes and knick knacks that reminded her of home.

Once the cart was unloaded she meandered downstairs for the rest of her things which she stacked up far too high, she was sure, but she didn't want another trip so she dealt with it. Unfortunately, her stacking abilities were not up to her expectations and a few of the boxes fell to the floor – to Alex it seemed to happen in slow motion, like one of the corny movie scenes where something important fell to the floor and shattered into a million pieces – with a very audible clatter that resounded about the floor and would have woken the dead.

"Shit, crap, damn, mother fucker," she cursed successively for the _second _time that day – not counting the interstate – she noted with a curl of her lip.

* * *

The beast in the next room rolled over when he heard a crash outside of his door followed by a succession of muffled curses.

"Looks like the neighbor knows how much trouble he's about to be in," Creed said with a dark chuckle, standing with every intent to barrel outside his room and commence scaring the poor fuck out of his mind. His steps brought him to his door and he stopped as a better idea came along as he peered through the peep hole at the baggy sweatshirt and jeans the covered the tiny man, hell he even had his hood up. He must already be scared shitless, trying to hide from the big bad wolf under a sweatshirt hood after waking his very deadly neighbor.

Creed waited and sure enough the man's form began to be less rigid. He had to go back and forth between the cart and the room because it was too big, probably to prevent a student from using it for too long. Creed opened his door slowly and stepped out fluidly into the hall. His steps were remarkably quiet and he waited for the man to go back inside before he picked up a box which smelled surprisingly flowery – _bet it's a bunch of his girlfriend's shit, creepy fuck probably brought souvenirs_. The box was large enough to hide his face and he called out into the apartment as he stepped in.

"I got a box," he said in his best impersonation of his brother – which was pretty damned good if he said so, himself.

"Thanks Logan," came a voice from the open bedroom that surprised him. It was distinctly female, it wasn't light and airy or remarkably high, but it was not male. Victor had been wrong in his initial assumptions and that knocked him on his ass. He didn't even think about the name on the door being a nickname. The figure out in the hall didn't really look female, all straight lines, but the jeans were baggy and so was the sweatshirt.

Her smell hit him in full after he got over the shock of being wrong. She smelled like lavender and the ocean, he decided – it was pleasant, but not dizzying. From the lack of footsteps he guessed his neighbor figured out that he wasn't Jimmy. He set the box down on the bar that partially separated the kitchen and living area and schooled his face into a smug and – what he knew to be terrifying – smirk that revealed his canines. The girl didn't flinch, but he smelled fear beginning to creep into her scent.

Whatever he had been expecting – maybe some fierce looking thing with a snarl and someone that exuded authority – not this. This little thing with her shape hidden by a sweatshirt even in the summer with her hand on her hip looking as confused as he felt, she didn't seem like she could do much of anything. The X-Men, he decided later, had a class tailored to throwing him off his game. Maybe it was because they dealt with lots of mutants with a huge amount of bravado all the time that made them so good at it.

Alex was almost never stunned into silence, but Victor Creed's sudden appearance in her apartment certainly did it. They had a small standoff where Alex had a chance to admire how terrifying the man in front of her really was, he was taller than Logan by a head and her by a foot at least. He had claws that were made to tear into her flesh and teeth to match them. He kept his hair shaved short in an army fashion and mutton chops that somehow enhanced his already animalistic features. However, she didn't expect Victor Creed to be a man to walk around in his socks – she decided not to point out that he had forgotten his footwear for fear of her life.

She had faced several mutants with just as much of a record and she herself was known for acerbic wit, and yet the best she could come up with was as strangled question that was half made to break the tension and half to show that she wasn't scared – which was useless considering he could smell it leaking out of her pores.

"If you put that in my bedroom you'd be my favorite person in the world?" Alex said uncertainly gesturing at the box he had just set down. Creed noted that her voice cracked, but even the attempt at humor and bravado was doing little to calm her. He chuckled and stepped forward; the girl didn't move back but seemed to take on a strange gaze that suggested she may not even be paying attention to him – he began to smell the lavender and ocean again. He grinned, that was dangerous trick and he stepped closer.

Alex began to start through her logic process to calm herself – Creed was assigned to protect them, he'd had a fight and he couldn't let it happen again, he was doing this just to be a dick and scare her. She wouldn't let it work, she promised herself tensely and it did little to calm her. Alex knew that she was letting him win and if she was anything she was stubborn. _Your fear is irrational. Control it. _Her conscience was tougher than any teacher and she forced herself to listen because – as all humans know – self disappointment was worse than anything. Creed brought her out of it.

"Do you know who the fuck I am?" He cut in through her thoughts like his canines did flesh.

"I had an idea," she responded flippantly, but she didn't dare turn around to go back to the room. _He's too close, _she thought – Alex was never a fan of being touched or having her personal space invaded, so this was beginning to become a living nightmare.

"Really? Cause it seems like you have a death wish." He was looming over her and she was looking for a way to the door without having to touch or get too close, but he was right in the small opening between the bar and the living room.

_Thanks for the toy, Jimmy. She's a blast._

"Logan's brother, right?" Her voice grew higher and she knew he noticed just by that shit eating grin that remained plastered on his face.

"Yeah."

"I'm Alexandra Deggins – Alex is what everyone calls me."

"I guessed. Thought you were a guy." He said with a chuckled and she looked mildly insulted.

"Right, I thought you would be taller."

"That was cliché," he noted dryly and she winced.

"It was not my best, I give you that."

"It was shit."

"Thanks, like I want an editorial on my banter." He was vaguely reminded of Wade Wilson. It made him want to hit her, but the urge was thrown off when she carefully maneuvered between him and the wall to the rest of her boxes.

"Listen," she said with an air of a long suffering martyr addressing a young man – it almost made him feel insignificant. "If you want to stay and loom about, I can't stop you. We both know that, but could you do it in a more convenient spot?"

Creed couldn't tell if she was appealing to his ego, she definitely admitted she wasn't strong enough to take him, or manipulate him. He decided that doorway to her room was better to lean on anyway, and it was almost as inconvenient as before.

"Perfect," the girl muttered and struggled with another box which was heavier and more off balance than she expected.

"Must be fucking hot under that," Creed noted with a flick at her sweatshirt, a claw catching the fabric and he saw her snarl. _Someone's a bit nasty,_ he noted gleefully in his mind.

"Yeah, my milkshake brings all the boys to the yard," she ground out. "If I don't keep it under the wraps of formless baggy, move in clothing they try and tear me up."

Creed couldn't help but laugh at the girl's quick remark and he felt it made up for the lame ass comment from before. "'s not what I meant."

"Yeah, I know. I'm from Louisiana anything under 85 is freezing for me. It's 78 out there. I'm dying from hypothermia." Alex found it easier than expected to fall into the familiar cadence of a war of wards. That and she could easily pretend that it was Logan she was talking to when she didn't turn around and see the impressive and oppressive entity that made up Victor Creed.

"Dramatic bitch, aren't you?" Creed growled, becoming increasingly annoyed with her lack of respect for his alpha status. He slipped from the doorway and was behind her, but she didn't notice

"Less so than most. You'll become acquainted with that as you relearn the lovely inner workings of teenage society," she shot back as she worried over a box trying to figure out what she wanted to set out first. She turned around and decided she figure it out after she returned the cart to downstairs – she hoped Creed would leave then. Her nose literally ran straight into his chest and she felt the blood drain from her face.

"Back up," she ordered nervously, she didn't want to start a fight, but she would if she had too.

"Nah," Victor said leaning closer when he smelled fear beginning to curl around her again. He was in charge and she knew it. His hand crept up to rest on her neck which he was sure he could snap in two. He saw the blood beating faster as her carotid pumped and became noticeable on her neck, another fang revealing grin. The man could tell she was fighting the urge to hit him.

"Move back," Alex said, her voice taking on a surprising edge she could feel round balls of energy forming around her fisted hands, after lots (years) of practice she had become skilled at using her force fields to protect more than just her body. She learned how to use them to enhance punches and use as projectiles. There was still no way that Victor wouldn't win a fight between them, especially in close quarters where he had the drop on her.

She remembered how she had been so proud her junior year of high school when she finally learned to throw them, the key was maintaining focus on two things – she simply used the trick she did when ignoring people, it helped widen her mind and consequently her powers.

As she was considering how embarrassing it was that she was this scared – but she was literally facing the bogey man of many of her nightmares - she heard a familiar stomp in the corridor. When she saw the form in the door – compact, stern and armed with sharp metal – she literally thanked god out loud for his appearance.

"Creed, step away from her," Logan warned, his voice was little more than a growl. He wanted to shred the man but was afraid of Alex getting caught in between. Her healing factor was strong, but still not quite on par with him and Victor's. If something important like her throat got slit in the melee she wouldn't die, but it would take a damn long time for her to fix herself.

Creed heard Logan's voice slash through the tense silence and he stepped away with his hands held up in an innocent fashion.

"I didn't hurt the broad, Jimmy. We were just talking and well…things took a turn and that bed was looking mighty nice," he sneered suggestively – he didn't get too in depth as he wasn't trying to lose his job, but Logan knew better than to believe him, especially since the normally implacable Alex was shaking in her boots.

Creed sulked off and back into his room, but not before a parting shot. "See yah neighbor."

He could already hear Jimmy talking to the girl and he lingered at his door to listen a little.

"Shit, I'm sorry Lexy. I shouldn't have left you with that monster, I don't know what I was thinking," he apologized and Creed pictured him running a shaking hand through his hair looking down. "We can have you switch rooms with someone tomorrow or today when Storm gets back." He said anxiously.

Alex knew exactly what Logan had been thinking and she knew, just as well as he that she wasn't moving. Not after that. She couldn't let anyone else in that corridor to take her place in the line of fire. Creed twisted the knob of his door feeling that he knew the girl's answer.

"No," he heard before his door shut. It was said forcefully, as if the girl knew he was still outside listening. It was a challenge. He laughed and walked into his room dropping into the couch and as he turned on the television he taunted the small woman in his mind.

_Game's on Lexy. _He found the pet name fun for him. It'd be a blow to James when he heard him use it and sully his pretty nick name for the girl. "Thanks again for the toy, Jimmy." The television channels flickered as he pressed the change button quickly and it illuminated the forbidding grin on his face.

* * *

**A/N: Okay, so this chapter is a lot longer than I planned, but I hope it is relatively fun to read because I had a lot of fun writing it. Alex is the first OC that will get a good fleshing out in this story, so I hope you find her believable and enjoy her as much as I do. Victor feels a little OOC in this chapter, but I feel it is because he's being forced to control himself. It also felt a little choppy, so I may change it later but I find that I'm pretty pleased overall. Review because I eat them like candy and they make me write faster!**


	3. New Arrivals and Rivalries

New Arrivals and Rivalries

A/N: Thanks again for the reviews everyone! I'd like to give a special shout out to **Desy** who has reviewed twice, which makes me squee because I know her work and love it. Keep them coming! They are definitely a great incentive to continue the story. This chapter introduces a few more OCs, has the return of Marie, Bobby and Kitty – Kurt will eventually be back, I swear. I have decided that they are going to have just graduated and have returned to help at the school. This is more a chapter made for introductions and small connections, nothing really plot moving – sorry. Yes, I realize there isn't a barn, but I decided to mess with cannon even more – if they have enough money for a plane then they have enough money for a barn. So there.

**Edit: **Apparently I was right and my memory served me well - there are stables at the school in the movie. Thanks to Jump the Gun for straightening that for me.

Rivals for everyone, though! Let the mayhem begin.

Rated: M for violence and language

Disclaimer: I don't own the X-Men I just play with them.

* * *

The summer was beginning to wind down, which meant that the school had begun to fill up. The last of the teachers were trickling in and everyone was getting ready for the students as well as the faculty's famed end of the summer party.

Bobby smiled at the girl with large black boots now resting on his lap with her back on the other side of the car – it had been Kitty's graduation present and they were breaking it in while going to the beach. Even while sleeping she was watching out to make sure she didn't actually touch him. His hands tensed on the leather under them as his mind thought of how her legs would feel on his skin…he had to stop those thoughts _now_ so he tuned into Kitty's signing and bouncing about in the front seat, her clothing and bags piled high in the passenger's seat – they had brought Kurt with them as well, but he had opted to teleport home in a few hour rather than risk another car ride with Kitty whose driving tended to be less than wonderful, as she was easily distracted.

He smiled at the memory of the drive up which had consisted of a lot of Kurt, Marie and he yelling simultaneously "Kitty stop!" This often resulted in her going faster to make the light. It would be a wonder if the traffic cameras didn't catch them.

It seemed like a lifetime before the green of the Institute's yards greeted them with their bright color, but finally his blue eyes alighted on them and a familiar sense of being home washed over him. Once again he looked down at Rogue – he gave her leg a little shake and watched as she glared at him while groaning and stretching into the waking world.

It was high noon and the sun was beating down on the grounds of Xavier's Institute letting light stream through the windows creating dappled patterns on the wooden floor. A door clicked open and the sound of footsteps could be heard along with familiar muffled voices that grew louder as they walked into the building.

"'Lo? We're back! Logan? Ororo?" A dulcet voice with a distinctive southern accent called out into the quiet house – it had become a consequence of Sabertooth's arrival, the quietude that was normally calming during the summer seemed heavy and forced like the whole mansion might explode from tension. Anyone that walked in the door felt it.

The three graduates stepped into the recreation room, which broke off into several different hallways made for classrooms, and dropped their bags. All three were grinning and they looked like they had a blast on the beach vacation. It was also clear that they were very excited to be back at the school now that they weren't lowly students, but part of the faculty. Rogue and Kitty had both been assigned to lower school classrooms like Alex while Bobby was going to help with physical education courses and they were all going to be assisting in training newer members of X-Men.

"Hellooooo," another voice yelled the sweet, little, happy tone of Kitty.

"Hold up," they heard a response find its way into their midst. Obviously Logan had been waiting for some of his favorite students, but didn't want to look like he cared that much – Wolverine did not sit about the recreation room and bound about when friends came back. He wasn't, however, opposed to lurking around the kitchen until he heard the door close.

"Hey. Have fun?" He asked with a genuine smile on his face as a brown and white haired mutant with long black sleeves and jeans rushed into already opened arms.

"We had a great time, Logan," Kitty responded brightly while she waited for Rogue to release Wolverine so she too could get her quick hello hug – no one else, except for Rogue, ever got bear hugs from Logan.

"Oh yeah, it was a blast," Rogue agreed when she had finally relinquished hold of Logan who smiled and nodded. It was good for him to see her happy like that. After the cure had failed her she sunk into a deep depression, like a cancer patient with false hope who crashes when they realize that they really did not have a chance. It had been rough for all of them, but it seemed like the girl was getting back on her feet again.

"Where's the furball?" Logan asked good naturedly, looking about for Kurt.

"He'll be around later. He wanted to avoid more of Kitty's driving," Bobby teased the small brunette who rolled her eyes.

"Nuh uh. He just wanted more time with that girl next door," Kitty retorted and Bobby shrugged. The small smirk suggested that Kitty could be more correct than he let on. Logan decided that he didn't really want to know.

"Anything new happen while we were gone?" Bobby joined in the conversation again and walked forward linking hands with Rogue who had her's covered with some black gloves. Logan frowned a bit, he told himself it was because he was going to have to deliver bad news, but he knew that might be a lie.

"Yeah…well Alex is back for one," he saw Rogue grin and Kitty gave a small bounce of excitement. It would be good to see their former classmate again. While she wasn't one of the original X-Men or a particularly brilliant student she did hold a certain mentor position in their mind if only for her blunt advice – often given when it wasn't wanted to the girls. As far as Logan knew the two girls had kept up with her and now asked for the advice when they wanted a straight answer. Good news was finished, bad news now. "Sabertooth has been assigned as a guard for us. He's staying indefinitely."

"What?"

"Yah can' be serious."

"No way," Kitty finished off the series of unbelieving words, but Logan's solemn – bordering angry – face was enough to let them know that he would never kid about this.

"Indefinitely?" Bobby began.

"Yeah, bub. I stutter?" Logan shot back with a snarl but Bobby didn't look like he took too much offense. He figured that Logan was having a mental breakdown and not for the first time since his brother's appearance.

"That's awful," Marie said with a truly sorrowful look. Logan forced himself to shrug like he didn't care that much – like anyone believed that shit; they had all known him for long enough that they knew when he was lying.

"Well, hopefully you won't have to deal with him as you all are assigned to dorms." Logan said. He avoided mentioning that they had planned it that way, but he figured they were smart enough to figure it out.

"We don't need protecting," Marie griped, bristling a little. She didn't like being sheltered like a child.

"You're not the first to say that, but it's been decided. Go unpack your stuff," he grumbled and thrust out keys into each of their hand. He found himself wishing that they would have saved question time for later so he could have enjoyed a nice reunion. His life would never just fall into what he wanted.

The three of them hauled up their belongings and began to meander off. Rogue paused and shooed Bobby and Kitty forward indicating that she was going to talk with the man for a second.

"Logan?" She questioned stepping towards him. "Are yah alrigh' with this?"

"What do you think darling?" The feral replied with something akin to sarcasm though the tone was no where near as biting – he realized that as she got closer he had reached out his hand like he might touch her face, but instead (after a brief fight with his conscience) he ruffled her hair and gave her a smile.

"It'll be fine though," he reassured watching with a faint smile how Rogue didn't bother to fix her hair, "We got a watch on him and the government has a leash on his activities…for now," he conceded that if Sabertooth didn't like his leash or found it too short he wouldn't have trouble ridding himself of it.

"Okay then. I'm gonna go and set myself up. I think Kitty wants to decorate a bit too. It was always more fun when the TAs gave the dorm a theme," she said trying to switch the subject to a more comfortable topic.

"Right then. See you guys at dinner."

"Sure will!" Rogue said and punctuated the sentence with another bear sized hug which Logan returned freely. It was probably a little too long for even a bear hug, but the two had been through far too much for it to make them feel awkward. When she was released for a second time Marie teased. "You're gonna get tired of me by the end of the year."

Logan laughed a shrugged. "We'll see." As Marie hurried off to find her friends and new room Logan found himself staring after her – just a little bit.

Logan sighed and raked a hand, frustrated, through his dark hair. He sat heavily on the couch and contemplated – not for the first time – how fucked up the situation was. It was just getting worse and worse too, when Sabertooth came in he had thought about what they were going to do to protect everyone else, but now that it was here he realized that watching all the kids all the time….

"Damn near impossible," he muttered.

His hands fisted on his knees as he let out an exasperated sigh that turned into more of a growl near the end and pushed up off the couch. Although he wanted to check and see if the kids were getting settled he felt that a trip to the Danger Room was exactly what he needed to keep sane. It was obvious that he was on edge, but he wasn't about to go around snapping at people all the time. As he stalked off for the second time to take out his anger on non-living objects he decided that he was going to be spending more and more time in here as the year wore on and his nerves were thin. Maybe he should consider building an adjacent bedroom, he thought dryly.

* * *

It had been two weeks since Victor had started staying in the house and he had made himself very scarce. It wasn't that he was scared of starting something, but he did need to do his actual job. So, he stalked around outdoors and indoors memorizing the mansion and the grounds. Altogether, there was almost no where that Victor hadn't been – save for the inner sanctuary of the X-Men which he figured he'd have to, every time he thought about it he winced, gain their trust in order to access it. The feral calmed himself with the thought that he'd break that same, God damned, trust soon enough and get to watch all of their faces fall when they realized they'd been played.

Two weeks, however, had not been enough to figure out his neighbor. She was a very strange thing in his mind. He had at first tried to memorize her daily pattern just so he could play a few games most of which involved appearing where he was unwanted and watching her scream.

Unfortunately, even though he was very sure that she had her head on straight, it seemed that her behavior – at least, what she did everyday and when she did it – changed faster than Mystique did. The only thing he did notice was that she kept very late nights and early mornings on the weekends – she also had no consideration for people next door as her door tended to slam shut instead of close like a normal person.

It seemed that Jimmy hadn't picked a good toy for him after all; it was never in the same place long enough for him to play with. Luckily, he thought, the girl had to help with the kiddies once school let in and so he'd be able to play some mind games with her then…until then though, he'd be so fucking bored.

Sabertooth snarled, viciously annoyed with doing nothing. He had laid out a map, sure, but other than that he'd been completely static.

"It's going to drive me fucking crazy," the feral snapped at nothing. He decided that he needed to run or jump – for fuck's sake – just do something that didn't involve the inside of that God damned mansion.

It was almost like being in solitary confinement, he'd decided. Everyone was doing their best to ignore his presence and although he wanted to give them all a good piece of his mind he forced himself not to – it was getting harder to listen to himself though. Victor never was one to deny himself anything and he found that the lesson wasn't at all easy.

Once he was done with this mission he'd make sure never to repeat the mistake, the only thing he'd take part in would be trips where he was allowed to sink his teeth and claws into whatever he wanted dead and fuck whatever looked pretty enough at the time. Personally, after the mission was done, he'd love to be in on the slaughter – if that was the plan – just to give them a good idea of how little he learned and how animalistic he could be.

Creed thought of Logan finding bits and pieces of his dear friends and falling into one of his rages. It made Victor mad with glee. His brother would track him everywhere after that, it would be a great game. Even though the runt didn't remember the Silver bitch from before Victor felt that even the anger he felt after her supposed death wouldn't hold a candle to the fury that would take him if his beloved school and kiddies got injured in any way.

The feral winced as his ears were assaulted by the slamming of the door next to his; it was high time he and his neighbor had a little bit more bonding time. He slipped out of his room and watched the girl as she walked – it was strange to see her in something beside that damn sweatshirt – she wore ridiculously tight pants, a polo shirt and a pair of tall boots. In her hand was a helmet – apparently on her way the barn which was a relatively new addition if his memory served him (it certainly hadn't been here before when he last 'visited,' he thought wryly). Victor was deep into stalking his prey, every part of him focused on making sure the girl in front of him stayed unaware of his presence while still being able to track every move – fuck, it felt good to hunt again.

Still, the large man had to admit that it wasn't so bad watching her. She wasn't very curvy, but the work with the X-Men had done her body good and her muscles were well defined. Her step was slightly turned out and sometimes she walked a little like a dancer – toe to heel instead of the opposite, but it wasn't really a graceful movement; purposeful, he found, was a better way to describe it.

Sabertooth momentarily paused in his hunting game when a strange cocktail of new smells wafted through the air. The only thing he could distinguish was that Logan was with them and they were all mutants. Part of him wanted to satisfy his curiosity and figure out who these people were. But, in the end the hunt was on and he couldn't turn it off. Once again, he pursued his prey, this time through an open door.

Alex had slipped outside and he followed her quietly into the yards behind the mansion – which were speckled with little trees and shrubs and surrounded on nearly all sides by a forested area; at least, he thought he had been quiet.

Suddenly, she stopped and whirled around, her dark eyes glaring through him – apparently his little perusal of her body had caused him to slip up somewhere. His lip twitched downward, the distaste of annoyance and a failed hunt filled his mouth. As an apex predator he wasn't used to this sort of failure.

"Are you following me?" She asked incredulously her brows furrowing together with the ends of her mouth turned down.

"Yeah, what about it?" He asked crossing his arms and smirking just enough to show off his fangs and remind her just who he was. There wasn't any way he'd be taking the bitch's whining. He'd go wherever he damned well pleased; she should just be happy that it hadn't resulted in the death of anyone she liked…yet.

Her mouth opened and closed like a fish and he snorted in amusement. "Keep that closed or we'll have to find something useful for it to do." He fixed her with a lascivious look that made her want a jacket or something – anything – that would make her feel like her modesty was in tact.

The petite brunette's chin jutted outward in defiance and he saw her lip curl in that little sneer that showed just how much she detested him.

"Find someone else to shadow, Sabertooth," she ordered, as if he would listen – it was the final straw too. No one ordered him around.

He found himself lurching forward, his claws already extended, and catching the woman in his outstretched hand. "Listen here, little girl. No one talks to me that way. I don't care if you belong to that freak show or not…you keep up that talk and I will make sure that you'll have to be spoon fed for the rest of your fucking miserable life, understand?"

His grip was bruising and his snarl was definitive – he was going to shred her to bits and leave her corpse for the crows and vultures. He noticed, much to his confusion, that although his grip was clearly hard enough to break the bones and shatter the windpipe of the girl, it seemed that they were doing none of those things.

It took him a moment to notice that his hand wasn't around her neck, well it was, but the neck was protected by a shimmering blue field. She was obviously afraid and he decided that he liked the way it played with her appearance, her dark eyes got wide like a doe and her mouth fell into a pleasing 'o' shape that made her usually sharp features soften. Still, she didn't respond to his threat with actual words.

Victor became distinctly aware that he couldn't smell the fear that was clearly written on her features. It was maddening – all he wanted was her dead underneath him for those querulous remarks of hers. It didn't look like he was going to be able to satisfy that want while she kept up that field.

"Cute trick," he snarled, his fangs remained bared but his grip on her throat relaxed and then completely dropped as it didn't look like that field was going anywhere.

The girl raised a hand to her neck and rubbed it though in reality it was just a calming gesture – she couldn't exactly feel her hand just the rubbing together of her fields which felt a little like a tingle on her skin. Her hand dropped and she felt rage bubbling inside her, he would have killed her! She wanted to lash out and throw everything at didn't because she knew it is what he wanted; an excuse to fight.

Her mouth twisted into a contemplative frown and then she released a sigh that surprised Creed – like she was giving into something. Although he didn't understand what she was letting herself give up to he took it as a small win for himself and grinned.

"Follow me," she muttered stalking off back towards the mansion. Victor, bemused, stood still for a moment before jogging after her – more than anything he'd like to feign indifference, but since he couldn't satisfy his want for blood the beast inside him begged for him to indulge his curiosity. Luckily for him he didn't have to pick up his stride much to catch up with the smaller woman.

"Where the hell we goin'?" He questioned while attempting to inject an edge to his voice. He could tell that it worked only because she gave a small start, but that could just have been a reaction to the surprising voice at her side. The shield still clung to her body and he could catch glimpses of blue shiver around her legs and arms as she walked. It still was messing with his sense of smell though, which made her calm facial expression hard to decipher - Victor had always been one to rely on his animalistic nature to figure out others, he could read posturing and smells, but actual facial expressions were difficult for him especially when the person he was trying to read had been trained how to keep their emotions in check.

"Work out room," she muttered.

"Fuck that. I don't need a work out, Lex-ee," he broke up the nickname to put emphasis on it; to let her know that he had been listening in on her and Jimmy's conversation not too long ago.

Her glance slid over towards him and she frowned, apparently not enjoying the sound of Logan's name for her falling from his mouth.

"No, you do," she rejoined and quickly explained before he thought it a shot at his pride – it was lucky she did because his face was beginning to contort in rage again. "Listen, you need to blow off steam," her hand once again went to her neck as if she could feel the huge clawed hand squeezing around it.

"Tell me about it. I'll break anything in there though," he said with a smirk apparently pleased with the thought.

"Maybe, but rather that than you breaking someone else," she retorted her eyes fixed on the ground her face impassive.

He sniffed trying to pick up on emotions. _Fucking shield, _he inwardly groused.

"Don't want me taking it out on the kiddies." They were directly behind the mansion now. The lawn had turned into a mosaic of patio stone that surrounded a large swimming pool.

"Yeah, I guess," she muttered. "We have some pretty tough stuff though. You might get more than one use out of it. It's in the pool house," she said pointing straight. "Enjoy." With that she was turning around on her heel and made to leave him again.

"Maybe later," he said clapping a hand on her shoulder in a menacingly false gesture of camaraderie. That and with her ass swinging this way and that while she stalked around so forcefully – he just couldn't help himself, he wanted to touch her. He was disappointed when his hands fell and caused a small wave of shimmering to break out. It was a strange feeling, a tingling - it wasn't hard like he expected and he could still feel the warmth of her skin underneath it. His hand continued to stay on her shoulder the rest of the way. Of course, Alex didn't know the reasoning and tensed herself for one of his scare tactics – it was working, Alex felt immediately less comfortable than before.

"Listen, I just want to ride while the place is empty. Alright?"

"'s fine I'll entertain myself."

"Awesome," she returned throwing up her hands and slipping out of his grip.

* * *

The barn was not as empty as Alex had hoped and her displeasure was immediately evident on her face - her brow had puckered unhappily, but other than that she made no comment.

Parked outside the barn was a bright red Nissan Sentra. It belonged to the head of the stables – a girl named Melanie. She was two years older than Alexandra and also a graduate of the Institute. She was, for all intents and purposes, a modern day Dr. Doolittle. Melanie was part of the full time staff because the stables needed looking after all year round – the children normally assisted during the year but during the summer they only had three or four people to look after the horses – they lived in a large condo that was set up adjacent to the stables in case any of the horses needed help during the night.

The barn had been built for the school as a means of expanding their programs and it made the school look more like a prestigious college preparatory school rather than a suspicious place that took in mutants. It was a great place for the students whose abilities were geared towards animals – empaths and shape shifters found the horses a source of enjoyment as did others who just had fun riding and caring for the creatures. Xavier had put in place and was quite pleased when it was finished – thought it gave the students a good way to learn responsibility

Alex's face had become more noticeably displeased as her mouth twisted into an obviously unhappy frown to accompany her creased brow. Creed noticed and smirked; pleased that someone else was pissed off for once.

"Don't wanna see someone, Lexy?" He asked slyly and watched as the girl next to him looked appalled that he so easily guessed the reason for her irritated look.

"Just thought she was gone for the day, and my name is Alex," she responded and fixed him with a reproving stare.

The man next to her shrugged, sniffed the air and was met with a familiar musky, dusty smell compounded with manure that came with horses – basically, it smelled like shit. He made a face.

"And mine's Victor, but I don't see you using it," he retorted; it hadn't escaped his notice that she referred to him as Sabertooth. Maybe it was to remind herself that she was in danger while with him, he shrugged his shoulders and with the action the thoughts of her reasoning; like he really gave a flying fuck.

Alex didn't ever feel comfortable with Melanie. Firstly because she tended to be a bitch to her and secondly because no girl could stand in her presence and not feel self conscious. Still, Alex was all dressed for the occasion and wasn't about to cower about with her tail between her legs because she might have to deal with a few sharp remarks and a complex later. She was gonna get on a horse, damn it! With a deep breath of dusty air that made her double over and cough in a most embarrassing manner instead of giving her a good calming feeling, she walked into the stable aisle.

Creed kicked at some of the dust and followed the girl into the barn. He wasn't too terribly thrilled with following some twat about like a puppy, but it was better than being bored and the small moments of fear he got from her gave him a sharp thrill that fed his addiction to power. Alex had disappeared into a side room, whatever the reason was he didn't care as a powerful smell caught his attention.

He was surprised that the girl didn't notice it too; the smell had hit him so forcefully that he felt everyone would be able to notice. It was rich and smelled of vanilla and honey and was so distinctly female that there was no chance he'd make a mistake like he had the first day on the property. It smelled so fucking delicious that he made an immediate beeline for it.

When he saw the owner of the smell his mouth ran dry. The woman was tall and curvy with golden curls that were pulled back to suit her work. She was slender and moved with a sway in her hips that accentuated just how wonderful it would be to grab her small middle from behind and pound into her. Creed had no doubt in his mind that he wanted her – and nothing in the damned school was going to stop him. Her skin was pale and he imagined that in the winter she must be nearly translucent and would turn such a pretty red when he let a claw rub over it and let it swell up. At that moment she paused in her walk down the stalls – apparently checking food and water and he was met with a pair of pretty grey eyes.

"Hello, there," she said walking forward to greet him with a bright smile.

Melanie knew who was standing in the middle of her stables – she had heard during a dinner with the faculty. However, what she had heard was nothing compared to what she was seeing right now. He was a hulking, brooding figure like she had imagined, but nothing could prepare her for how he exuded animalistic tendencies. He didn't walk, but stalked with his head just a little tilted forward so that every look to the side was more reminiscent of a glare, or a predatory stare. Melanie felt both terrified and electrified as that stare locked onto her, but she effectively squashed both feelings – she was an empath with a tendency towards animals, Logan had described his brother as being more animal than man which boded better for her. She felt the menace coming off of him in waves, and she wasn't going to give him the satisfaction of scaring her.

Creed leaned on the cement wall of the barn and let his salacious gaze follow the curves of her body. A blush began to creep up and he saw it display itself on her chest underneath the dark green wife beater that covered her torso. He smirked – this was too easy – the corner of his eye caught a brief flash of dark brown leading a large horse out of the crossties and towards a covered arena. Alex apparently had enough faith in the woman to leave her alone with him.

"You are?" Melanie ventured with a smile plastered onto her pretty face.

"Victor Creed."

"Logan's brother, right?" She asked, holding out her hand to shake his – Creed took the offered appendage but rolled his eyes as this conversation had stirred up a sense of déjà vu. He was fairly sure that this conversation was nearly the exact same as the one he had with Alex two weeks back when he had first arrived at the mansion. This version, he found, was quite a bit nicer, though.

"Yeah. Somethin' like that," he muttered his eyes lingered where her shirt dipped and he could see her cleavage. In his mind he had already considered taking one of those breasts into his hands while she begged and squirmed away from him. Her hand slid from his but not before he let a claw trail a little too harshly over her hand.

Melanie chuckled – a rich sound that was fairly infectious, but was cut short when she felt Creed's claw graze over her skin. It wasn't extremely painful, but it was intimidating and caused her breath to hitch. Creed found himself smiling in spite of himself at the small catch.

"My name's Melanie Caldwell," she picked up easily as if the incident had never happened, but Creed smelled the apprehension – bordering on fear – starting to emanate from her pores.

"You work here long?" He asked, gesturing about the barn.

"Yes," she replied her eyes sliding coyly towards his face. "I'm quite good with animals. It's part of my gift," she said. Melanie was raised under Xavier's standards that no one was beyond help – it was something that kept her going on a daily basis, gave her faith in the human race that had shunned mutants ( she always hoped that she'd wake up and they'd find out that they'd been wrong).

Creed grinned. That sly little bitch was flirting with him. He could see her misinterpreted ideas of him flowing across her face. She, like so many other victims, thought that they could see some good – appeal to his humanity. It wouldn't work, but she was a tight little piece of ass and she would provide some small entertainment while he was here. Creed felt his bad day turning around and his spirits lifted. He could smell the fear falling away from her and he stepped forward – the same type of motion as a hawk swooping towards its prey.

She decided that Victor Creed was just one of those people who were lost and she was determined to make him her project and help him move away from the ways that had made him the infamous Sabertooth. Those in the mansion, especially his brother didn't understand, but after all – she was good with animals. Who else would be able to help him if not her?

"So, what's the other part of your…gift?" Creed asked, though he didn't really care.

"Maybe you'll find out," she replied with a giggle behind her hand.

The feral in front of her reached out to wrap a hand around her shoulder, but she slipped around him and away from the grip – fear had begun to suffuse through her as she began to really think about how sharp those claws were. She wanted to change the man, but it was not something that could be done in a day. The man growled at the evasion, but forced himself to stop from attacking – maybe he could do with a little frustration release.

"I have to get back to work. These guys aren't capable of feeding themselves, you know," her voice was high and nervous – Creed imagined that her scream was pitched the same way. He pictured it again, he'd grab her and let his claws dig in this time. As she was kicking and screaming he'd rip off that tight little shirt of her's and grab hold of the taunting breasts –

He heard a horse nicker and stomp excitedly as Melanie sauntered down the aisle. She paused and whispered something to him which made the large creature nudge her excitedly. He spent the rest of his time – he wasn't waiting, he had simply found a new subject to stalk that happened to be in the same place as his old – letting his eyes follow Melanie around the barn. They didn't talk again, but Melanie could feel the cold, predatory stare that honed in on her.

The woman was beginning to wonder if her idea would work. She pushed aside the doubts because she knew that if Xavier had been here he wouldn't have given up so easily. More than anything she wanted to do right by the man's memory.

_Clip. Clop. Click. Swish, click._

Creed's intense observation was shut off by the sound of a horse being tied into the cross ties. Alex was apparently done. He strode from his inactive position in the lane and began to walk towards the sound.

Melanie had beaten him to it. The two girls had never gotten along, and their dislike for one another was well known, but no one – probably not even them – knew why they had so much trouble getting on. Ororo, who had known them longest out of the staff had a feeling that it was linked to when they were both very young and had just intensified as they had grown up like some childhood quarrels did.

"Fall any today, Alexandra?" Melanie asked nastily. The normally sweet tone girl had reverted to nothing more than a Regina George look a like.

"Nope," Alex replied tersely. "Looks like you survived too," she shot back with a meaningful glance towards Victor who had paused in his trek towards the ties and was pretending to look over the schedule written on – _whatever happened to laminated paper, _he thought – another white board on the door of the tack room.

He was, however, intensely interested at the sudden change in both the girls. Alex was looking at everything but Melanie and he couldn't tell whether it was to throw her off like he had done to Magneto or if it were an actual submissive posture. He guessed the first. Melanie had changed from the open armed person in the hall to this little hellion looking down her nose at the brunette untacking her horse.

"Yes," Creed heard Melanie say and he saw her wearing an unctuous smile to underline her victory. "He doesn't seem so bad," the man's lip curled – he'd show her how bad he was soon enough.

Luckily for Melanie, Alex scoffed for him. "He tried to kill me on the way here."

_That's right, Lexy. Tell her what the bad man can do to you._

"Well, he was just fine with _me," _the blonde taunted and laid a hand on the horse that was in between the two women. He immediately leaned into her and nuzzled her shirt.

"Just because you are such a special snowflake," Alex returned snottily, adding a certain emphasis that suggested it wasn't such a compliment.

"Well, it seems that McGee is enjoying this bonding time," the brunette continued, clearly annoyed, but it seemed that she was throwing in the towel and taking the "higher road." In reality, she was just ready to get out of the barn and away from Melanie.

"Want me to take him? He says you were being a bitch today," Melanie lied easily – Alex wouldn't know what the horse was really thinking and from the way McGee was acting it seemed that he was quite a bit happier to see Melanie than he had been her.

"Go for it," Alex had a sharp feeling that the girl wasn't truthful, but she offered the horse a ginger snap from her pocket in hopes that it would be a suitable apology, anyway. He took it eagerly and she kissed his forehead. "See yah later, buddy," she cooed and picked up the saddle and bridle to return them to the tack room.

She was so thrown off by the encounter with the girl that she didn't even grumble about Creed being in her way and squeezed past him her back and ass pressing against his chest and a more sensitive area as she did so. Creed felt his cock respond appropriately, but his curiosity once again overrode his more base emotions.

"What was that about?" He asked, with a small amused snort and a jab of his thumb towards Melanie's general direction outside the room, as he watched Alex use a stepping stool to assist her as she placed her saddle on the top shelf.

"Nothing," she replied not that he had expected a straight answer. She placed her bridle on the hanger connected to the saddle rack in a neat manner after which she fixed her bun which had become a sweaty mess from the helmet she wore while walking through the open door once more making for the mansion.

"Bye Mel. Have a good day," she called out behind her in a tone that was obviously supposed to be a mimic of the other girl's.

Creed considered lingering in the barn to get more acquainted with the girl who had gotten under Alex's skin like a bot fly. It was, he decided, quite a feat as even he had trouble eliciting that much of a response – he could get fear from her, but unadulterated annoyance was difficult. It made him want to laugh at the realization that, given the option, she might rather a day with him than Melanie.

* * *

When they reached the mansion Logan was waiting outside his face was contorted with worry; anger was added when he saw a clearly frustrated Alex followed closely by Sabertooth. The other feral ran down the stairs and towards Alex looking over for her any signs of injury caused by the madman he had allowed near her.

"You alright?" He asked worriedly.

"Yeah."

"Then…what's the matter?" Logan questioned and Creed paused to let the two talk so he was at a safer distance from his brother.

"It looked like it was going to be such a good day," Alex whined and shook her head, exhaling hard afterward. Victor chuckled at the dramatic display – _Women, _he thought spitefully.

"And?" Logan prompted as if still expecting to hear that his brother had gone for the jugular.

_Yeah, why hasn't she mentioned that? _Victor finally wondered as he remembered that he had done exactly that not two hours ago.

"It rebelled," Alex said as if that explained everything. Victor smirked and Logan chuckled at the phrase. As they were busy looking at each other disdainfully when they realized the similarity in their reaction, Alex removed a ring of keys from her pocket and walked towards her car – still parked in the roundabout that served as the driveway of the Institute.

"Where ya going?" Logan yelled as the black jeep roared to life.

"Grocery shopping!" Alex yelled back.

The Jeep's wheels spun and for a moment the vehicle remained stationary before peeling out of the driveway. Even as it sped down the drive – music blaring, now – towards the main road, Logan could see Alex tugging at her bun. Logan had a feeling that she was just going to clear her head so no one had to watch her in her flustered state. Alex hated showing any type of weakness and if she couldn't hide it then she made sure that she found a place to go so no one would bear witness to it.

"Weird," Creed remarked, not even bothering to hide the confusion written on his features. Women were such odd, emotional beings. He was glad that he only needed them for sex. He had forgotten that they were so difficult – it was another thing his trip was teaching him; he had the right idea about women. Use 'em and lose 'em.

"Melanie?" Logan guessed – he knew he was right though.

"Guess so," Creed responded with a shrug of his shoulders.

"Women," Logan observed unhappily as if the word summed up everything – Victor nodded, apparently in the same mindset. Women were crazy.

"What's their issue, anyway?"

"Dunno, bub."

"There's beer in the main kitchen fridge," the adamantium lined man suggested without looking over. Apparently having to deal with two frustrated women was enough to earn Victor a beer and a civil conversation with his brother.

Creed was about to point out that the women didn't stress him out like they did Logan. But, he could feel the old camaraderie they had shared years ago and the part of him – which was more than he would admit – that craved that feeling of being needed couldn't make him say something cutting.

"Thanks," he muttered and loped up the stairway and into the house.

Logan stayed outside and considered the conversation too. Of course he wrote it off by saying he had bigger things to worry about – what was bigger than his murderous brother alone in the mansion with someone, he couldn't actually say.

So, he sat on the steps and looked out over the lawns for another hour letting his thoughts wander about. He pushed himself up off the steps and decided to take a stroll before returning to the exact same spot on the stairway – he hadn't realized how much time had passed. It was nearly dark now as he mounted the stairs and looked out over the lawns once more.

Logan didn't often feel contemplative and nostalgic, but when he did it hit him like a freight train. It had been three years since Jean, Scott and Charles had died and, even now, the circumstances of their deaths set him on edge. It was all wrong, he thought, and it wasn't for the first time. They should all be here, he and Scott would be fighting over Jean and she'd be blissfully unaware of the rivalry. Charles would try and convince him to stick around whenever he wanted to go on a trip, and he would run but he'd always come back. He'd never leave them.

Before these thoughts slowly metamorphosed into some strange allegory for he and his brother click of the door behind him derailed his inner thought process followed by heavy footfalls.

"Logan?" Rogue's voice was behind him.

"Yeah?"

"Dinner's ready. You gonna eat?" She asked with a concerned edge in her voice.

Wolverine felt a gloved hand fall on his shoulder.

"Oh yeah, darling" he responded and stood up to allay her fears.

"Good. I was worried," she said truthfully.

"Cause I was late for dinner? That's no first. I missed tons of 'em while I was gone," Logan responded lightly.

"No, you look like someone kicked a puppy in front of yah."

Logan shrugged noncommittally; Rogue didn't pressure him for an answer. That's what he liked about her, she was a nice girl with all of the same sensibilities of the others, but without the annoying over zealous feelings that the other girls in the mansion tended to have. She didn't blow up about stupid things; knew how to pick her battles – well, maybe not real battles, but figurative ones.

"Let's get some grub," he said opening the door and letting her walk in fist.

"Oooh. Someone's being a gentleman," she teased. "Thanks."

"Welcome," Logan replied following her in and down the hallway to the dining room.

"Kurt ever tear himself away from that girl?"

"Not that ah know of," Marie replied with a small chuckle behind her hand stepping in to the dining area.

* * *

The table was nearly full today - Alex had yet to return from her shopping trip - now that most of the staff had returned. Logan found it nice, over the years he had come to consider them family. Ororo and Hank were deep in conversation no doubt something to do with a school curriculum. Even Melanie and the two stable hands – Josh and Fairly – had decided to have dinner in the main house.

There was a newer teacher to Hank's right with fiery red hair he was – as far as Logan could remember the new History professor went by the name Bill Hope. Although he was personable enough, he seemed a little uncomfortable in the middle of everyone. Rogue took pity on him as they approached. He wasn't a mutant, but he had been an advocate of mutant rights in the school system and was invited to teach here just this year after he had been fired from his previous school.

"Hey there, Billy," she said as she walked down to take her place at the table.

"Hello, Marie. Ready for the year to start?" Billy asked going to the typical question that most teachers used to break the ice when they didn't have anything else to say.

"I don' know, yet. Ask me tomorrow, kay?" She responded with a laugh that sparked the man's own.

Logan took his normal seat near Hank and Ororo and watched with a small amount of annoyance as Rogue hurried to Bobby's side and whispered something in his ear which caused the boy to blush. He had hoped that his favorite ex-student might be sitting near him to let him in on how the trip went. It was a bit inconvenient with her on the opposite side of the table.

Through out the rest of the dinner he had difficulty focusing on what Ororo and Hank were discussing, they had attempted to include him but quickly gave up when they saw he was more engrossed with staring at his food. He also continued shooting furtive glances across the table at Bobby, who was beginning to look uncomfortable with his gaze. Iceman shifted nervously in his seat and leaned towards Rogue.

"Something up with Logan?" He asked. "He looks pissed."

"Don' know. I found him sittin' outside. I think all this mess with Sabertooth is getting to 'em," she replied looking towards Logan. Neither of them got their answer as Logan pushed away from the table.

"Logan?" Ororo ventured.

He grunted, annoyed. "'m gonna go take a ride," the feral responded more civilly and stalked out of the room with the intent to run hid motorcycle until he ran out of gas.

"I am worried about him," Ororo voiced.

"Yes, he seems to be taking all this with Sabertooth very hard," Hank agreed.

"Well, course he is," Rogue said "that's not something you just get used to right away. Yah know?"

A deep voice rumbled from where the dining room connected to the kitchen - Victor had been skillfully lurking in the doorway. "Here's a newsflash for you girly," Creed said. His voice immediately made the rest of the room silent, he sauntered inside and took Logan's seat with a beer in his hand. "I haven't said more than a few words to him all day…and they were pretty civil," he remarked. Rogue's mouth had fallen open, but one hand was already at her glove, ready to remove it at any time.

Sabertooth had taken his brother up on the offer of beer – he had been craving something stronger than water. Even though his healing factor made it impossible for him to actually get drunk he felt calmed by the burning sensation the alcohol caused.

"Civil by whose standards?"

"Any. Told me where the booze was least ways," Creed replied. That seemed to be enough to convince Rogue. That was Logan's personal stash. He wouldn't have let Sabertooth in on the secret if he was being an asshole.

"Something must have happened," she muttered.

"Probably. He'll get his head out of his ass soon enough, though and come crawling back to you…" he took another swig from his beer can. "maybe." A tense silence fell over the company again.

The silence was finally broken by Kitty. "Ororo," she began, to the surprise of everyone else. Creed had been basking in the fact that he'd scared everybody at the table shitless and stunned them into quiet. It was a great feeling.

"Yes?" The weather bitch responded.

"Did Logan take down his sign again?" She questioned with a mischievous grin on her face. Creed realized that he was looking at the reason for sticky tack on Wolverine's door.

"Yes, I believe he did," Storm responded with a knowing smile. It had become a tradition for Rogue and Kitty to make the most ridiculous signs for Logan's door just to have him tear the down. He pretended to be annoyed, but they all knew he enjoyed the joke just like the rest of them. It would probably serve to cheer him up when he came back.

"Then," Rogue had piped up now. "I do believe we have some work tah do. See y'all later."

The dinner finished in silence and after a few minutes everyone was getting up to say their good nights. Creed never moved, but to his surprise he received a few farewells addressed specifically to him.

"Goodnight Mr. Creed," Ororo spoke calmly and nodded. Creed grunted.

"Night Billy. Night Victor," Melanie cooed and sent a smile towards the remaining people. Creed glared at the orange haired man now the only other person at the table.

"I gotta…do stuff," Bill said and struggled to his feet stumbling out the door, the smell of fear falling off of him much to the amusement of Victor.

The feral man sniffed and looked at the now empty beer can which he tossed into a trashcan as he walked into the kitchen. He yanked open the fridge and grabbed two one for the trip there and one for his fridge. As he walked back to his room he found himself actually wishing that the kids were here – at least he wouldn't be so bored with them running around and causing a ruckus.

* * *

A/N: I know, I'm one of those people that does the end note things. This chapter was fun to write, especially the interaction between Victor and Logan - I think that guys will always bond over girls when they go crazy with their emotions. Only logical explanation for the two Howlett brothers is booze. Duh. Read and review please!


	4. Laundry Girl

Laundry Night

A/N: A little bit of fluff combined with plot moving things. I love little Logan and Victor. There's some Kitty + Rogue bonding. More thanks for the reviews, favorites and alerts. With another big shout out to **Desy **who pointed out my A/N mistakes. Also if you are in the mood for some wondrous Victor angst, love and sheer genius I suggest you read **Fyrefly's** "The Victor" and all the other stories that go with it. Seriously, read them. I bow to her writing prowess – it almost made quit because nothing I write could be that intense. This chapter - mainly the laundry scene - was actually written a while back as a one shot that never got posted and so I expanded on it because it was a fun idea in my mind.

Disclaimer: I don't own the X-Men, though I desperately wished I did. I do claim Doyle, Alex and Bradley. The title belongs to a wonderful band, Ludo, whose song inspired this chapter a long while ago.

Rated: M for language, violence and naughty thoughts

* * *

Marie and Kitty rushed out of dinner and straight to Kitty's room in the dorms. They were far too old to get this excited about cutting up construction paper, but who really cared? Not them for sure.

"Logan's going to be so pissed when he sees another decoration on his door," Kitty tittered and dug out a pack full of different colored paper.

"Ah know! Wait…you carry that stuff in your bag?" Marie asked confused.

"Duh," Kitty replied and gave a look that clearly questioned whether or not the girl was an idiot. It was lightened quickly as she laughed and Marie – who had begun to think Kitty seriously thought her stupid and was going to give her a piece of her mind – joined in with her.

"Y'all are so strange."

"Coming from the girl who wears fishnets," Kitty replied easily and with no real bite. At first they had really disliked each other if only for the extreme difference in style, but it quickly let up (after they faced several near death experiences together) into a friendly and familiar banter. Kitty laid out the paper on the floor and picked out a deep blue color and began to outline 'Wolverine' in large block letters. It was done so many times before that she almost didn't have to think about what she was drawing.

"So," the slow southern drawl stretched out the word even as she mimicked its lazy air by laying on her stomach on the floor. "Butterflies or flowers?"

"I always like butterflies, but the soap bubbles were pretty funny too."

"Yah know…maybe we should just make him a real one and see how that works out," Rogue mused half-heartedly.

"And break tradition?" Kitty was scandalized and put a hand to her cheek in a mocking gesture.

"Throw him off balance for the next attack," Rogue simplified. "He's gonna tear it down anyways, yah know he hates," here Marie accented her voice with a growling deepness and sat up again putting her hands on her hips with a lip curled back in distaste – an obvious attempt to impersonate the Wolverine; "That stupid girly marker shit."

Kitty dissolved into a fit of giggles. "Oh. My. God," she managed through the laughter. "You're an awful Logan."

"Hey now, I try. Sides, there's only one Logan and we both know that," she replied with a chuckle grabbing some silver paper from the stack. "Whatdaya say?"

"Sure! I'm all up for new stuff," Kitty replied and began to expertly maneuver scissors around the words while Rogue traced three large slash marks in her paper. Rogue finished her masterpieces and held them up for Kitty to marvel over.

"Perfect," the girl said with a decisive nod while jumping to her feet with the dark letters. "Is there any tape in the bag?" She asked even as she dug through the desk at the window looking for some

"No, there's some sticky tack though." Rogue offered holding up a box of the yellow stuff that Kitty had looked over.

"That will work," Kitty said walking back to the center of the room.

"Yah know. I'm not too fond of being shut away here. It's not like we haven't dealt with Sabertooth before," Rogue's voice was mildly annoyed as it shattered the silence. It had been itching to be said, but she knew better than to try and argue with Logan. Not only would she not win, but she'd probably succeed in making him go into that annoying funk where he felt bad about making them do something they didn't like. She hated that wounded puppy look he'd give her if she voiced her irritation along with the heartbreaking 'm just tryin to protect you darling.' Her eyes were fixed on the paper that she was cutting trying to focus on something other than Logan.

"You know, it's not really for our protection," Kitty said out loud. "The kids need someone to watch out for them. We are good here because we have dealt with Sabertooth before…" they both lapsed back into silence; the only noise was that of their scissors.

"I never really thought about it tha' way," Rogue conceded and set the last slash mark to the side. It was true too, which came as a surprise; Rogue was always the more critical thinker out of the two girls. A crunch could be heard as she crumbled up the paper and tossed it in a trashcan.

Kitty smiled and looked up from the yellow backing she was connecting to the original letters. "What do you think he'd do if he got a sign?" Rogue didn't have to ask to know that the 'he' involved was Sabertooth.

"Throw a fit. Smash his door," Rogue stated dryly.

"Right," Kitty sounded a little disappointed. "It's sad, don't you think? That they are so closed off from each other?"

"Logan and Sabertooth?" Rogue asked incredulously and Kitty nodded. "I guess so, but I can't imagine that any sane person would want to try and connect with him; family or not." Rogue quickly rose to defend Logan's personal choices, but luckily for Kitty it didn't seem like the conversation on that subject would be going much further.

"True."

"Ah'm done." Rogue said quickly, looking up expectantly at the other girl.

"Me too," Kitty responded brightly and they each held up their finished products. "They'll look great," she said, "He won't know what hit him." They both picked up the rest of the trash and put everything away before walking out the door and across the lawn to the main house.

The two girls booked it through the rooms, down the hallway and made their way quickly through the house. They made no extra attempts at being quiet though.

Rogue knew that Logan surely wasn't back from his ride yet. He was a wanderer at heart and when he wanted to get lost; he made sure he was lost. He'd be back by morning though, she thought pleasantly with a fond smile; he always was. Kitty agreed and they chatted the entire way there.

"When we get back we'll unpack your room," Kitty said as they arrived at the familiar door. It was strange to look across the hallway and see Alex and the empty nameplate instead of Scott and Jean; they both felt a flicker of remorse course through them.

"You think Alex is home?" Rogue broke the solemn silence.

"She wasn't at dinner." Kitty said with a swallow and turned to look at the door. "He didn't even take off the sticky stuff from last time," she scoffed picking at it with a manicured nail.

"Just re-use it, Kitty."

"Oh yeah!" The girl responded and chuckled while rearranging the tack to better fit the new design.

After a few minutes of repositioning and tweaking the girls stood back and admired their work. Wolverine was in big blocky letters with a thin outline of yellow. On the right side they had strategically placed the silver slivers of paper to make it look like the paper was being cut through by Logan's signature Adamantium claws.

"Next time we go with butterflies and bubbles," Kitty observed as she tugged on Rogue's sleeve to exit the floor.

"Agreed. I think that fits him far too well. He may not take down for weeks!" She complained and they both fell into laughing at the idea of Wolverine letting any of their art projects stay up for more than three or four days; if that.

* * *

_Ding. Swish. Thump. _

The door of the elevator sounded off as Victor reached the familiar floor that had become his place of residence for his stay in the mansion. He took a swig of the beer he had nabbed from Jimmy's stash and began the short walk down the hall.

The fluorescent bulbs lit up the doors around him until he finally reached his room. After fiddling with his keys for a moment – though, for the life of him he couldn't remember why he bothered locking the door; if they wanted to search his room they had a master key – and the wooden door swung open. His boots were heavy on the tile that covered the small kitchen and he flicked the light on while placing his extra beer in the fridge.

The place was still bereft of anything that would make someone believe that another person lived here. A black bag on the floor and a growing pile of dirty laundry in a portable laundry basket was the only thing that gave away the fact that someone called it home.

He knew that most people expected him to be a messy person, but truth was that before Creed had gone free lance with his work he had been a government guy. He'd been a part of more wars than anyone could count and the military cleanliness shit that they had drilled into him before every one of those wars had become part of his persona. Sure, he may make a mess of the people he was asked to kill but it was often done systematically – according to whether he wanted information, if the employer wanted it a clean kill…the list went on.

The next thing he did was open the bag that Doyle had given him and pulled out a Mac. He opened the top and waited for the backlight to flicker on and the computer beep. After a few moments he was connected to the internet.

Creed had a limited knowledge of computers – his answer for any computer problems was control, alt, delete. If that didn't work then he made one of his computer guys to fix the god damn machine. It wasn't that Creed didn't like technology (he had adapted well to it, in fact) he just wasn't particularly interested in knowing the inner workings of every machine that had ever been created. He was happy enough to let that crap fall to some lab geek that only got off from chicks they saw on porn sites or Star Trek.

He dug through the bag and picked out a shiny new cell phone. As he set up the computer at the bar that served as the table for the room he looked at the only missed call on his phone. Apparently, his employer was trying to contact him. He glanced at the clock – it was getting late, but he had a feeling that the asshole trying to get in touch with him would be waiting up all night until he called. This job was important or they wouldn't have hired him.

Creed pressed the call button and listened as the dial tones sounded off. A few rings later and a familiar voice picked up.

"You've got Doyle," an extraordinarily happy tone for such a late call answered. The man on the line swiveled in his chair and leaned back to rest his feet on the desk in front of him.

"It's Creed," Victor said darkly; automatically in work mode as he sat down in a chair.

"Ah, I'm glad you called. You haven't turned on the computer yet, it seems," Doyle observed casually.

"It's on now," the feral remarked looking at the screen. "How the fuck you know that anyway?"

"I have my ways," Doyle said with an added 'tsk' that just served to make the feral on the end of the line snarl with annoyance and grip the bar tighter; his claws scratched the top as it was not made to withstand such abuse from sharp objects.

"I don't appreciate being fucking spied on," Victor voiced irately; if the blonde government man had been in front of him he would have ripped his throat out. "You hired me for this job and I'll do it however I fucking well want to."

"Listen, I can't control what they bug on you. I'm just a delivery guy," Doyle's tone was ingratiating now, as if he sympathized with Victor's problem. Like hell he really cared. "The computer has a program that should be able to allow our guys to hack the security system and student files," he continued conversationally.

"Alright. Just so long as some fucker doesn't try spying on me through that damned camera," Creed said with his chilling slate gaze fixed on the camera just to get the point across. If a guy was sitting on the end of that picture he probably pissed himself and turned off the camera function on his end.

"Ah…" Doyle sounded like he might just be the poor sap on the end despite his delivery guy comment. He coughed to regain his senses. "We'll see what we can do, kay partner?" More colloquial nonsense thrown into his distinctly city accent.

Creed couldn't say if he had ever hated a man more than he hated Doyle. His false niceties and stolen sayings made his blood boil and set his teeth on edge. Victor may not have been a people person to begin with, but one of his pet peeves was when people lied to him or tried to play him for a fool. Of course, Victor had cultivated the image that he was nothing but brutish muscle and no brain. Those that hired him quickly learned better, but those he hunted often didn't get a chance to learn that they were mistaken when they assumed he was nothing but a stupid brute. Still, guys like this were supposed to know he was capable and having them treat him like a rookie made the idea of going rogue all the more enticing.

Victor had learned early on in life that knowledge was power, he had learned to read when he was young and kept up with the times and his education as time went on. Jimmy was actually the one to teach him to read when his was younger. Something about being in a place that constantly smelled of Jimmy and being around him catapulted him back into the past with such force that he couldn't even struggle against the memories – he didn't normally indulge in a stroll down memory lane, but the ones taking over his mind, now, begged to be listened to:

_Victor and James were young boys. It was snowing outside and James was sick, as he tended to be in his youth. They lived in a time when the poor could not achieve anything other than the hope of finding work, and education was a luxury only available to the rich. _

"_Mother!" James cried out as he looked outside into the cold, dark day where clouds covered the sky and snow fell ceaselessly. _

_His eyes were fixed on a scrappy looking boy with a serious face who was definitely not dressed warmly enough. The older boy was, of course, Victor and he was sweating from his arms swinging continuously through the day as he split firewood and hauled it off to the growing pile. His father was in the barn – a much warmer environment with the horses giving off heat – feeding and watering the beasts inside, he also took the only lamp they had leaving Victor in the bleak day without any comfort whatsoever. _

_Victor still found it preferable to the beatings he received at home when his father was in one of his moods. No other child his age could work like he could or had the same features he did and his father would try and beat the strangeness out of him, only to find that his beatings hadn't even left a mark on the skin – they certainly made an impression in the young boy's mind, though. It had made Victor the town misanthrope, after all if his father didn't love or like him then how could he ask it of anyone else? He knew that he was strange and after a few years he had learned that everyone who lived around them would not welcome his type of strange in their house or around their children. It had turned him bitter and quiet and solemn; it was the beginning of the Sabertooth. He still craved love and attention, but was now afraid to seek it for fear of being rejected._

"_Yes, James?" His mother cooed and brushed a few strands of hair from the child's face._

_He looked back at her with tears in his eyes – how James had developed a fondness for the strange Logan boy was beyond her. She knew what was coming next and yet she also knew she would be powerless to say no to her sick child who she felt she could lose at any moment._

"_It's too cold out there for Victor!" He cried out his bright eyes going back to their original focus. _

"_He's a strong boy. He will be fine," Elizabeth Howlett reassured him, rubbing his back in a comforting manner._

"_No! He'll get sick, Mother. You have to let him come and play with me. I am so bored, it would be good for both of us," James reasoned with such finesse that his mother found it impossible to find a reason to deny him. She brushed her dark skirts and went to the door glancing back at James to see him grinning from ear to ear. _

"_Victor," she called out over the whistling wind blowing forcefully through the trees. The boy's cold stare caught her and she shivered, there was something wrong with him…she could feel it. Still, the excited look in her child's eyes made her gesture for Victor to come over to her_

"_Yes mam?" Victor said as he approached the door, leaving the axe buried deep in the stump he had been using as a flat space to chop the other wood._

"_Come inside. James would like to see you," she replied. _

_Victor shifted from one foot to another, a little nervous, but he was nothing more than a servant and he couldn't refuse the woman's orders. He felt strange and out of place in the large and luxurious house of the Howlett's. Like he was somehow desecrating a sacred space, the disdainful looks he sometimes received from the lady of the house made him feel even worse, but he couldn't say he didn't like the company of her son. He was a smart kid unlike the other ones in the village and could keep up with Victor's wit despite his younger age and somehow Victor knew that they were connected – he just couldn't pin point how._

"_Just keep it to reading, James," Elizabeth said sternly as Victor sat on the couch next to James who already had picked a book out and had it open on his flannel blanket covered lap. Victor dropped onto the couch heavily and looked at the sickly pale boy with an awkward smile._

"_Thanks," he muttered. "For getting me out of cutting wood," he clarified. James looked pleased with himself._

_Victor couldn't remember the name of the book, but it was about pirates and gold and adventure. He loved it, that night his father had been too tired to give him a piece of his mind; Victor fell asleep and dreamed about sailing the high seas and having adventures of his own. _

_When he arrived at work the next morning Mrs. Howlett hurried him inside once again. He was brought upstairs this time – Jimmy felt particularly bad and couldn't make the walk downstairs. He had the same book out and opened to the point they had left off – Victor was pleased that the younger boy hadn't read ahead without him._

"_Would you read today, Victor?" James asked quietly, sinking into his pillow as Victor sat in an ornamented chair by the bed. He looked ashamed for a moment and ground out a 'no.'_

"_Well, why not?" James asked a little petulantly._

"_I dunno what it says," the older boy admitted his head hanging down in embarrassment he hated that the boy was smarter than him; that he would be able to read all these things without help – Victor hated having to ask for help._

_Once James got over his initial shock he sat up again and grinned. "It's fine Victor!" He reassured the other boy. "I can teach you," he offered and Victor looked suspicious but intrigued all the same._

"_Honest, I can," James promised._

"_Alright, Jimmy. Teach," the boy said and although it wasn't a thank you James could tell by the interested light that illuminated Victor's normally solemn or sour features as a sign that he was grateful. Jimmy didn't admit it then, or ever, but it was also one of his favorite times – it was the first time that he ever felt useful._

_It became a tradition after that day. Victor didn't even have to pretend to go to work in the morning, he'd just knock on the door to be let in by the ever watchful lady of the house – who was thankful for spring and the fact that it got Victor away from James – and was led to wherever James deemed and appropriate spot for the day. By the time the snow melted and the first sprigs of green could be seen on the tress Victor could read anything James asked him to and they would spend hours pouring over books and imagining what their lives would be like with such grand adventures._

" – Mr. Creed?" Doyle's glossy voice filtered through his memories and spoiled his reminiscence. Outside his door he heard a few voices followed by some laughter, but after a few moments it was gone – he figured it to be a TV.

"Yeah?" Creed deadpanned, unable to muster up enough cruelty in his voice after the poignant and nearly happy memory still lingered about in his mind.

"I lost you there for a second, bucko," the pitchmen said with a laugh. "Good to have you back though. I have some instructions for you, they're pretty simple. You ready?" He sounded like a kid about to surprise his mom with some homemade nonsense.

"Do I need to close my eyes for this?" Creed remarked with a role of his eyes.

Doyle laughed a little too long at the joke. "No, no. Just keep that computer running, okay? We are going to do all the hacking for you – you just need to keep up the cover."

"That's all? Seriously, you should have gotten someone else for this shit. I'm going crazy just to leave a fucking computer running?"

"No. You are perfect for this job," Doyle quickly reassured. "We still need you about to maintain the cover. If the government was going to get involved with the school then we would be expected to send the best…and we both know that you fit that."

"I've never been much for protection jobs," Creed responded, the ego stroke calming him just a little bit.

"Well, money does strange things to people's sensibilities, Mr. Creed," Doyle chuckled and Creed found himself smirking which he quickly stopped because he realized that the man was getting to him.

"Keep the computer running and keep the disguise up. Got it. Anything else?" Creed tried to make it clear that he was in a hurry – what he was in a hurry for didn't matter.

Doyle apparently got the hint and on the other side of the phone he spun about in his chair and twirled the phone cable in his fingers with a wide smile on his lean features. On his desk sat a computer very much like Creed's. The screen was alight and he could see the entire room that Creed was staying in.

He had been watching the mutant since his own screen turned on and was judging if he might be thinking about anything that could jeopardize the mission. He was satisfied that the man's curiosity had not taken over him, he supposed that the goings on in the mansion were sufficient to keep the feral interested. He hoped that it would last throughout the mission. If Creed got too interested then it could be trouble for them.

Doyle grinned and ran a hand through the thin blonde locks at the tope of his head. "Nope," he said cheerily. "That's about all, but I'll be keeping in touch so keep the phone charged. Bye, Mr. Creed," Doyle said with a grin he heard a grunt on the end of the line that he assumed was Victor's way of saying goodbye.

The man glared around his room looking for something to occupy his hands while his mind was buzzing. Finally they settled on the laundry hamper which was getting a bit full for his taste. With a heavy sigh he stood fluidly and scooped up the hamper by the handles. Lucky for him, Ororo had included laundry detergent in her list of necessities and it was in the small pantry cabinet in the kitchen for lack of a better spot to put it.

Victor pulled open his door and trekked down the hall it smelled different than before the scent of Ororo and Logan had faded and a fresh smell lingered by Logan's room. He recognized the mixed scent of the small brunette that could walk through walls and that girl that Magneto had kidnapped before. He noted the new decorations on Logan's door and chuckled while looking about for the culprits even though he knew they wouldn't just be standing around in this hallway. He sniffed and adjusted his hold on the laundry basket in his arms and continued to the laundry room.

It would certainly be a surprise for anyone to see Victor Creed with a blue mesh laundry hamper seeking out an empty washer and dryer. Not that it should be surprising. Victor may be more in touch with his animal side, but most animals were not so fond of being dirty – yeah, they might get dirty and do it without the same human distaste for it, but they almost always found a stream or something like it to clean off afterward. The same could be said for Victor, his clothes got bloodied, soiled with dirt and God knows what else; he always washed them afterward though.

The laundry room was only a couple of feet from his room. So, he barely recorded the inconvenience of not having one in his own room again. The fact that it was nearly midnight probably helped to assure an open washer. A small notice was taped to the door telling him to use no more than one washer at a time as this was a communal place.

"Fuck that," he said and shouldered the door open. His nose was immediately assaulted by the crisp smells of detergent and starch. It was a dull room, painted completely white with no furniture. There were only four washer dryer sets about the back wall and an ironing board on one side. Above the board was a shelf labeled helpfully for emergency detergent.

Once again he felt annoyance and disgust slither into the pit of his stomach. It was weird, this domestic little house with all if per-fucking-fection that drove him up the wall. He reached up and bent the shelving unit just enough to make it nearly impossible to keep the detergent on the shelf. The next person who tried to place it back up there would probably get nailed in the face by the same detergent. He smiled at the thought of one of the X-men howling in annoyance as their nose spouted blood.

He didn't particularly care about his clothes – with the exception of his coat which was always dry cleaned – but he wanted to piss someone off so he took up two washers just because he could. He felt stupid that he was resorting to such low acts of defiance, but every little bit of it helped keep him sane so he did it despite the taste of juvenile delinquency. The doors to the wash fell closed with a clatter and after a few seconds of fiddling with the knobs Victor's wash was on.

He went directly back to his room where he took a long shower in hopes of using up hot water and upping the bill – hell, he got free food, laundry, appliances, internet it was kind of like staying at hotel but cheaper.

The hot water poured down his back and eased the tension from his muscles which felt like they were constantly coiled and ready to spring which they were. It was rare that Victor ever went this long without a good long fight that eased his tensions and his body was beginning to rebel against the stagnation as much as his mind had done already; was still doing, for that matter. He exited the shower only after the water ran cold and goose bumps began to rise up on his skin.

The feral took his time toweling off as he felt sluggish from the shower. Once he was sure that he couldn't be any drier he pulled out a pair of clean sweatpants and a wife beater and put them on. His boots were once again forgotten back in his room along with his socks and he padded down the hall to switch his clothes to the dryer.

* * *

"This year is going to be awful," Alex complained into the red cell phone held at her ear. She was slouched down in the driver's seat of the car one hand on the wheel with her dark eyes fixed on the road. Her grocery shopping trip had morphed into a midnight joy ride and an excuse to call her older brother and vent about her problems.

_Not to mention you are hiding from the sociopath next door. _Her inner self taunted brutally. Alex frowned, she wanted to lie to herself and pretend that she wasn't hiding, but after years of enforcing brutal honesty with herself it was beginning to get hard to turn off. Her frown deepened at the truth in the words. Before any other thoughts could pound her self assured safety into the ground Bradley took over the conversation.

"What's the problem this time?" He asked dully – as an older brother he was obligated to listen to his sisters' problems, but sometimes calls in the middle of his REM cycle did throw him off. Couldn't they wait?

Bradley – who was the oldest of the three Deggins siblings was also the only one who shared their mother's lack of any power other than regeneration; both Alex and their youngest sister Samantha had a power that expanded on their father's psychic abilities. Samantha was telepathic and had a powerful regenerative ability like the rest of the family. Alex was the only one who didn't heal immediately, Dr. McCoy had a feeling that it was due to the fact that her body rarely needed it because of the shields she could form, while her sister and brother did not have something else to protect them. Regeneration, he theorized, was a trait that almost all mutants have in some form; it was likely the beginning of all the mutations which were – evolutionarily and still theoretically – just the next step in evolution. Naturally, longer life and health were a goal of any species and so regeneration met both extremely well, all other mutations, he said, didn't begin until after the first healing factor. After several studies he had yet to see a mutant that didn't at least carry the healing factor gene.

"I don't get along with a few of the faculty members," Alex mumbled irritably. She decided that it was the best way to phrase it considering she didn't know how secret Sabertooth's stay was supposed to be. That and she just wanted to complain about the situation, not give her brother a heart attack.

"Seriously? Is this all about Melanie, again? I thought we talked about this, Alexandra," he said with a heavy sigh. "It doesn't matter that she doesn't like you or you don't like her. It just happens when you get out into the real world – you can't get along with everyone. Not to mention if you leave the mansion then you'll just be letting her win," he reasoned while moving to a sitting position in his bed.

Alex chewed on her lip. "It's not just Melanie," she tried to explain. "There's this new guy and he's really difficult to get along with and he's taken a shine to bothering me about everything." She twisted her hand tighter around the steering wheel watching as some of her annoyance, fear and anger seeped out of her whitening knuckles locked around its leather grip.

"Do I need to repeat the aforementioned advice?"

"No, but –"

"No buts. Listen, you have a ton of people who like you and who you like there and you are going to give it up because you are having trouble with two of them? Honestly, weren't you supposed to be the smart one?" He teased – it was a running joke in the family: Bradley was the nice one, Alex the smart one and Samantha was the – as she and Zoolander so brilliantly stated, "the really, really ridiculously good looking," one.

"Just book smarts. You and Sam are supposed to be my common sense."

"Well, please, just steal some of mine."

"I don't want to leave you defenseless in New Orleans without your street smarts."

"I'll be safer," Bradley said with a smirk leaning back onto his headboard and brushing his thick curly brown locks away from his face. "At least I'll have a full night's sleep to work with while you use them."

"Touché," Alex conceded with a flick inward of her wrist and two fingers. "Well, I guess I'll let y'all go. Talk to you later, brother."

"Alright, little sister; be careful," he said fondly.

"Only if you are," she retorted.

"We'll see," he remarked back quickly before the line went dead. The phone clicked into place as she slid it shut and threw it to the side a little more harshly than she intended.

_Whatever, it's indestructible, _she thought as she turned off of the interstate onto the winding, tree lined road that quickly turned into the gates of the Institute. She reached up and groped a moment for the device that let her into the grounds. Once found she pressed the button and waited for the gates to swing open.

During her walk to her room she realized how much she smelled. In her need to get out and go she had forgotten to change out of her barn clothes and shower. Her nose wrinkled in distaste, normally she did laundry right after riding simply because there was no way she was letting those clothes stink up her room – it had happened once and it took forever to get the sour smell out; not even a whole bottle of Febreeze would cover it.

She showered quickly and threw on a sports bra and a pair of sweatpants and a sweatshirt. It was a stupid thing to do she would think later, while Logan and Ororo could care less what she was wearing the serial rapist next door would have a field day if he had found out that she didn't have a real shirt underneath her jacket.

Along with her gross barn clothing she had a book and an iPod was plugged into her ears.

Sure she could have done the normal thing and watched television while waiting for her clothes but it was late, too late for anything but crappy reality shows and infomercials which she had seen hundreds of times before. So, she settled on listening to music and reading a book while she waited for her laundry to finish – it wouldn't be the first time that she had done it and – as dorky as it was – she enjoyed the time to read and dance around out in the open despite the fact that she was as alone as she was in her apartment. Her drying hair bounced on her back – free from the confines of the austere bun for the second time that day.

She frowned at the taken washers that were running. "Logan," she muttered annoyed – he was the only one who disregarded Ororo's notice. Her assumption was wrong of course, but she didn't know that until it was too late to escape.

* * *

Creed smelled her before he saw or heard her. It was the overwhelming scent of lavender with the faint ocean breeze mixed in – he still couldn't figure out why that strange combination came off her, but both the smells soothed any creature and Creed couldn't help but feel a bit calmer. He didn't have to open the door to hear the voice leaking from the room loudly singing a doleful tune.

_And with this long last rush of air we'll speak our vows in sorry whispers. When the waves came crashing he closed his eyes and softly kissed her. _Alex's voice rang out with her eyes closed and she twirled. The Decemberists' The Hazards of Love continued to play out the sad finish of their hero and heroine.

Creed pushed the door open quietly and slipped inside to see the pajama clothed girl making a fool of herself. The iPod, he guessed, switched to something happier that caused the girl to sway back and forth like Creed had seen so many girls do in night clubs. Somehow the feral didn't find himself so intent on taking her then and there. The girl was a cute thing – not that he used the word cute to describe many women – but she didn't make his mouth feel like cotton when looking at her. Just wasn't his type – tall blonde, busty with a good bit of their own blood on their skin.

Her dark locks were still partially wet and flipped about as she moved to take clothes out of the wash and move them to the dryer. He stood behind her and wondered if he grabbed onto her if he would feel skin or the strange tingle of a shield. His mind sparked at it, the first time he had startled her she hadn't turned on that fucking blue, shiny shell – she hadn't seen him coming.

Creed pounced.

He grabbed her around with both his arms and pulled her to his chest in a tight embrace that felt like she might get crushed. One of his large paws reached up and pulled the earphones from their spot and he purred mockingly in her ear as the familiar scent of fear replaced her normal smell. She was warm against his chest and there was no mistaking the rub of fabric from her sweatshirt and the wet spot – slowly growing on his shirt from her damp hair – on his chest for the feel of a shield.

"Hello neighbor." Alex felt her blood run cold as she was swept backward, but she dared not struggle – like many crazed mutants the X-Men dealt with, Creed got off on people's fear. Not struggling, she knew, would be better for her in the long run. Although her mind fought to maintain control the closeness of the man brought about bad memories, memories of the dark and gunshots and a complete loss of control; these memories were the real reason for her extreme dislike of invasions of personal space. She pushed them out of the forefront of her mind and kept her body stock still.

"Let me go, Sabertooth," she ground out.

Victor curled his lip at the codename. Although it was a testament to his power that people felt the commanding force that had been the Sabertooth of prehistoric years was a perfect description of him, it wasn't his name. It was simply an alias.

His grip loosened though despite himself; he didn't want the stupid bitch running off to Jimmy or any of the other freak show members after this. So, he'd let her feel safer. It still wasn't loose enough for her to escape, but he felt the fear and tension sink away though he was loath to lose the deliciously maddening smell from the air.

"Where's your little shell, Turtle?" The man sneered. "Having a bit of trouble controlling yourself around me?" He asked lasciviously.

"Let me go, Sabertooth."

"I thought I told you," he jostled her roughly and she coughed in an attempt to hide the jolt of pain. "'ats not my name."

"Victor, let me go."

"Beg for me, girly. You don't sound so desperate. I think I can stay here for a while longer." He leaned forward a little so that they were flush against one another once more to accent his point and Alex felt panic coiling in her stomach. She had to get out of his grip.

"Victor, please," Alex said in her best attempt at pleading which was more of an annoyed grunt.

"Huh," he said with practiced falsified surprise, "I like the way that sounds. Maybe'll make you say it again;" Alex felt then that he had done this before. The tone and jokes were too flippantly said – practiced and outlined; she suspected the last girl to hear the jokes hadn't made it out alive.

She felt the huge man slip his grip from her and she was legitimately surprised when she didn't feel any unwanted groping. She had expected him to take his hands a little to far up or down for comfort. That he had just dropped them told her that his heart wasn't really in the taunting – it was good news for her.

Still, she whirled around directly her shield glinting around her as she pulled herself onto the dryer she was using so that she would be a more difficult thing to pick up with her hand wrapped around the side of the machine it to became enveloped in the blue shield and now acted as an anchor for her. If Victor wanted to pull that stunt again he'd have to drag the unit with him.

"So that's how it works?" The feral said interestedly.

"What're you doing here?" She questioned forcibly, ignoring his query – like hell she would tell him how her mutation worked.

"Quid pro quo," he quoted.

"We're playing twenty questions now, Hannibal?" She asked tersely and she expected him to snort and deny it quickly – after all, Victor Creed wasn't the type of guy to play a game with a kid while doing laundry.

He tilted his head and looked at the washers he had placed his clothes in and snorted. She thought that he had decided to completely ignore the question as he threw the clothes into a dryer.

"No," he replied as he turned a dial on the dryer and he grinned as he thought about how he was about to twist her perception of him. All it took was a little show of humanity - there were still a few shreds in him that he found useful – and then most people were fucking falling over themselves hoping to save the beast. The dryer began to hum and he leaned on the wall opposite of her perch.

"Now we are," he said and watched, smugly, as her mouth fell open in surprise. He smirked – always worked.

Not to mention that he didn't have any-fucking-thing else to do besides play a game in the laundry room. He thought of the look on Jimmy's face when Alex, inevitably, ran to him and told him what had happened between she and his dear, dear brother. Priceless. He also thought about that hurt look she'd get on her face when he tore through her throat and he betrayed them.

Even better.

"You first," he said with an opening of his arms.

"Uh. Let's play ten questions. I don't have twenty things I want to know about you," she said bluntly and Creed didn't know whether to be insulted or laugh. So he simply nodded to her expecting her to start.

"One: Why are you here?" She asked and Creed rolled his eyes.

"Laundry."

"Right," she felt a little stupid and her shoulders drooped.

"Your shield doesn't work if I touch you before you have it up?" This was important. If he wanted her dead later he needed to get past this barrier. "Don't lie," He warned darkly. "I'll know and you'll get to find out first hand what happens to people that try to cheat me."

"Yeah," Alex said with grudging honesty. She may have been surprised by Creed's willingness to play the stupid game but the threat was expected and – as she wasn't an idiot – she would answer. What she didn't tell him was that if she had tried to put one up while he was touching her he'd just get thrown into it.

"Two: Why do you hate Logan?" It was here that she realized her count was actually not in her mind and that she was no where near as creative as she had thought.

"That's original," Creed responded sardonically, with a roll of his eyes.

"Answer," she amended the order as she saw Creed snarl "please."

"He's an asshole," he stated and he waited to hear her complain that it wasn't an acceptable answer that it wasn't deep enough. Like hell he would tell her the whole story; you didn't just up and tell strangers your deepest feelings.

"Fair enough," she replied. Creed felt his intense hatred for the girl wreathed in blue fade…minutely; if only because she understood that reasoning. "Your turn."

"Why do you hate Melanie?" He shot back nastily and was pleased with the frown that took over the girl's face.

"She's a bitch." She responded figuring that she could use his answer against him. He didn't look pleased, but let it go since she had earlier.

"How do you like it here?" _Three_, the count was internalized now.

"It's fucking boring. I've had more fun on trans-Atlantic flights."

"Harsh," she said with a chuckle. "It'll get better when the students return."

"I doubt it."

"Shouldn't you be in college?" He spit out after a small lull in the conversation. His assumption was that she was a kid right out of highschool, she certainly didn't look her age.

Alex looked a little put out. It wasn't surprising that he would get the age wrong. "Just got out, I'm saving up for law school."

"No shit," he said with a raised brow like he expected her to change her answer, but he knew she wasn't lying he'd dealt with people far too long not to recognize that; he also didn't expect her to want to deal with his anger if she did lie.

"Nope, none at all." The conversation was far too easy, she thought and she wished she hadn't gotten into it to begin with – it was dangerous to spend time with someone you were supposed to hate on principle.

Still, he wasn't being awful; he hadn't attacked her, he was being – _Stop that, _her mind scolded roughly; _this is how Stockholm syndrome starts. He tried to kill you; he's a rapist and a murderer. Nothing will make him your friend. _Alex thanked her inner thoughts; it was true. She couldn't get comfortable of she'd end up dead.

_Four. _"Favorite color?"

"Seriously?" Creed said, he found the conversation quickly going south. He shouldn't have started it.

"I'm bad at thinking of good questions. I wasn't lying when I said I didn't have twenty things; barely have ten. Just answer," this was all said in such quick succession that he had trouble deciphering it. The brunette had begun to turn a bit red in embarrassment, which was just too fucking perfect.

"Black. Yours?" He asked after realizing that he didn't have ten questions either.

"Oh wow. We're just repeating questions now?"

"Best way to get to know someone is to ask the same thing," he said with a grin – it was a bull shit answer and from the way that she had her brow raised she knew it too.

"Uh huh," she stated dryly.

"Answer the question, Lexy," he snarled the name but she hardly looked phased by the sound now.

"Green or blue. Depends on the day," she responded with a nod.

_Half way mark. _"Where are you from?"

"Canada."

"America's hat?" She asked; for a second she looked a little like a kid with her hair down, swinging her legs off the edge of the dryer.

"The fuck's that supposed to mean?" He said, but there was more amusement than aggravation.

"Just a play on where it is on the map…my sister told me the joke once," she explained and her shoulders dropped again. She looked duller somehow and it aged her.

"Fucking weird," he muttered.

"A little bit. Question…" she reminded.

He picked up the hint easily. "Where are you from in Louisiana?"

She rolled her eyes at the apparent lack of original questioning. "New Orleans."

"I've been there before. Not half bad," he admitted. New Orleans had been his type of place. It was filled with booze and broads and so much crime that any murder he committed would more than likely get skimmed over. He'd take a trip down south after this mission was done, he thought.

Silence fell on the conversation once more and Alex struggled for a question that wasn't too probing or weird – before she found out about her mutation her go to question had been "If you had a super power what would it be," it didn't seem to fit into a conversation with another mutant…

_Bizzzzz _Came the insistent alert from the dryer that let Creed know his things were done.

"Well, neighbor," Alex started – grateful that the buzzer had sounded before her next question. Now that the chore was done Victor would certainly be going back to his room; no doubt he was tired of her company. "Looks like your done here. We'll play again later."

Creed wasn't entirely certain he was tired enough to go to bed, but there wasn't any way in hell he'd be staying in that room and playing some fucking stupid game. He tried it and found it to be lacking; the girl was giving him a way out and he was taking it. All of his clothes got stuffed unceremoniously into the hamper and he stalked to the doorway. He had every intent on stalking out of the room without saying a word but the stupid bit of humanity that he thought he had used up during the game stopped him as the door was about to close.

"Night." He grumbled half-heartedly. That night while nightmares plagued his sleep as usual he could have sworn that in between some of them he caught glimpses of New Orleans with shining lights in the French quarter.

* * *

A/N: Yay! Another chapter done. This one is admittedly a little more fluffy than I had intended. It does give a small snippet of Alex's almost-phobia of having her personal space invaded and the reason for that. Also, before anyone tries to correct Rogue's use of y'all when talking to one person. We southerners will use it that way, I'm sorry. It just happens. Next chapter promises for some fun Rogue/Logan bonding and tension plus a little more Melanie – y'all missed her right? Also, a fun game: What would you ask Victor in twenty questions? Good ones may spark my muse and end up in the story.


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